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ARCHAIC GREEK BRONZE OF THE SIXTH CENTURY B. C

Tn the British Museum. Illustrating an early stage of Greek Art.

The Library of
Original Sources

The Ideas that have influenced civiliza-
tion, in the original documents — translated

University Edition

Edited by

Dr. Oliver J. Thatcher

formerly head of the History
Department, University of Chicago

Assisted by more than One Hundred
European and American Scholars.

University Research Extension Co.

Milwaukee :: Wisconsin

EDITOR'S ACKNOWLEDGMENT

ALTHOUGH THE EDITOR only is responsible for the matter
included in this set of books, yet he has been greatly assisted by the
suggestions he has received from specialists in their own fields. As
the editing of the last volumes is not yet finished, it is impossible to
give full credit for such advice, but the editor takes this opportunity
to acknowledge the important counsel or additional suggestions
received from :

A. H. SAYCE, LL. D., D. D.,

PROFESSOR OP ASSYRIOLOGY, QUBEN'8 COLLEGE, OXFORD UNIVERSITY.

CRAWFORD H. TOY, A. M.f LL. D.,

PROFESSOR OP ORIENTAL LANGUAGES, HARVARD UNIVERSITY.

WALTER MILLER, A. M.f

PROFESSOR OP CLASSICAL PHILOLOGY,
THE LBLAND STANFORD JUNIOR UNIVERSITY

HENRY RUSHTON FAIRCLOUGH, PH. D.,

PROFESSOR OF CLASSICAL LITERATURE,
THE LBLAND STANFORD JUNIOR UNIVERSITY.

FRANK FROST ABBOTT, PH. D.,

PROFESSOR OF LATIN, UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO.

JOHN CAREW ROLFE, PH. D.,

PROFESSOR OF LATIN. UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN.

DANA C. MONRO, A. M.,

DEPARTMENT OF HISTORY, UNIVERSITY OF PENNSYLVANIA.

EDWARD G. BOURNE, PH. DM

PROFESSOR OF HISTORY, YALE UNIVERSITY.

FERDINAND SCHWILL, PH. D.,

DEPARTMENT OF MODERN HISTORY, UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO.

HARRY BURNS HUTCHINS, LL. D.,

DEAN OF THE DEPARTMENT OF LAW, UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN.

WILLIAM H. WELCH, M. D., LL. D.,

DEAN OF THE MEDICAL FACULTY, JOHNS HOPKINS UNIVERSITY.

THEODORE WILLIAM RICHARDS, PH. D.,

DEPARTMENT OF CHEMISTRY, HARVARD UNIVERSITY.

PAUL REINSCH, PH. D.,

DEPARTMENT OF POLITICAL SCIENCE, UNIVERSITY OF WISCONSIN.

H. H. MANCHESTER, A. B.,

MANAGING EDITOR FOR THE ROBERTS-MANCHESTER PUBLISHING CO

ILLUSTRATIONS

VOLUME 11.

PAGB

ARCHAIC GREEK BRONZE (SIXTH CENTURY) Frontispiece

DYING WARRIOR ON THE TEMPLE AT EGINA 3

DISCOBOLUS, BY MYRON (492 B. C.— 430 B. C.) 3J

HEAD OF PERICLES, BY KRESILAS (480 B. c.— 410 B. C.) 54

DORYPHORUS, BY POLYCLE1TUS (Fl. 450 B. C.— 420 B. C.) 105

AMAZON, BY POLYCLEITUS 136

LEMNIAN ATHENA, BY PHIDIAS (488 B. C.— 432 B. C.) 190

BOLOGNA HEAD, BY PHIDIAS 249

HERACLES, BY LYSIPPUS (Fl. 350 B. c.) 344

HERMES, BY PRAXITELES (Fl. 350 B. C.) 426

TABLE OF CONTENTS

VOLUME II.

RELIGION 3

THE BEGINNING OF THINGS 4

The Theogony of Hesiod 4

The Works and Days 26

IDEAS OF THE FUTURE LIFE 35

Odysseus' Descent into Hades 35

Elysium 49

Second Olympian Ode 50

Happiness of the Departed 52

The Mysteries 52

INSTITUTIONS
ATHENS

Aristotle on the Athenian Constitution 54
SPARTA

Lycurgus 105

EARLY GREEK THINKERS

THALES 138

ANAXIMANDER 140

ANAXIMENES 143

PYTHAGORAS 145

XENOPHANES 146

HERAKLEITOS 148

PARAMENIDES 156

EMPEDOKLES 160

ANAXAGORAS *75

ZENO OF ELEA 17S

MELISSOS l%2

THE PYTHAGOREANS J85

SOCRATES J^7

LEUKIPPOS AND DEMOKRITOS l%7

PLATO 190

THEAETETUS I9l

PARMENIDES 239

PHAEDO 249

THE IDEAL STATE (Republic) 311

Origin and Education

Community in the State

DIOGENES THE CYNIC 339

CHARACTERISTIC SAYINGS 339

ARISTOTLE 344

FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTIONS IN LOGIC 345

Enumeration of the Categories

Of Substance

Of Proposition, Term, Syllogism and its Elements

AN EXAMINATION INTO EXISTENCE 352

THE BASIS OF ETHICS 3^4

POLITICAL IDEAS 3^3

Origin of the State

The Ideal State

ZENO THE STOIC 418

CHARACTERISTICS

EPICURUS

LETTER ON HAPPINESS 426

GREEK RELIGIOUS IDEAS

i ? THE r,REr,KS were the works of Homer and Hesiod.

n the Greek ideas concerning- the origin of the gods

in Hesiod's Thcogony and his Works and Days. These

the stories of the- wars of the gods, the bringing of fire

of Pandora
world. The

>TO i

.\-\.i-. A^^ \^4^^^i^\^^^\i^^eQtil^h2ive given

fo the m few paragraphs of isocrates which stand

'"y .1 . • v literature i« explaitiirtg these uiflttont&i

DYING WARRIOR

LATTER PART OF THE SIXTH CENTURY.

Figure from the corner of the East Pediment of the Temple at Aegina.
Now in Munich. Illustrating early Greek Art.

GREEK RELIGIOUS IDEAS

THE BIBLES OF THE GREEKS were the works of Homer and Hesiod.
We have shown the Greek ideas concerning the origin of the gods
and the world in Hesiod's Theogony and his Works and Days. These
contain, also, the stories of the wars of the gods, the bringing of fire
to man and the consequent punishment of Prometheus, of Pandora
and the beginning of evil, and of the five ages of the world. The
Greek ideas of the future life in Hades and Elysium are best repre-
sented in the descriptions of Homer and Pindar, while we have given
a glimpse of the Mysteries, and the hopes of immortality which they
gave to the initiated, in those few paragraphs of Isocrates which stand
practically alone in all Greek literature in explaining these influential
but reverently unspoken-of rites.

THE BEGINNING OF THINGS

THE THEOGONY OF HESIOD

BEGIN we to sing with the Heliconian Muses, who keep safe the
spacious and divine mount of Helicon, and also with delicate feet dance
about the violet-hued fount and altars of the mighty son of Cronos :
and likewise having bathed their soft skins in the Permessus, or Hip-
pocrene, or sacred Olmius, are wont to institute on the top of Helicon
choral dances, beautiful and lovely, and move nimbly with their feet.
Then starting thence, shrouded in thick darkness, by night they are
wont to wend their way, uttering sounds exceeding sweet, while they
celebrate aegis-bearing Jove, and majestic Juno, the Argive goddess,
treading-proudly in golden sandals ; and gleaming-eyed Athene,
daughter of aegis-bearing Jove; Phoebus Apollo; Artemis, arrow-
queen; and earth- encompassing, earth-shaking Poseidon; august
Themis ; Aphrodite shooting lovely-glances ; and Hebe of-the-golden-
crown; and fair Dione; Aurora, and the great Sun, and the resplen-
dent Moon ; Latona, and lapetus, and wily Cronos ; Earth, mighty
Ocean, and dark Night, and the holy race of other ever-living immor-
tals, who erst taught Hesiod a lovely song, as he fed his lambs beneath
divine Helicon. But first of all the goddesses, the Olympian Muses,
daughters of aegis-bearing Jove, addressed me in a speech such as this :

"Ye shepherds, dwelling a-field, base subjects for reproach,
nought but gluttons, we know to sing many fictions like to truths, and
we know, when we will, to speak what is true."

Thus said the daughters, ready-in-speech, of mighty Jove, and
gave me as a staff a branch of very luxuriant olive to pluck, (a branch)
wondrous to behold ; and breathed into me a voice divine, that I might
sing of both the future and the past.

And they bade me hymn the race of ever-living blessed gods, but
first and last ever to sing of themselves. Yet why should these tales
be told by me touching the sacred oak, or rock ? Come thou ! Begin
we with the Muses, who, as they sing, delight the great spirit of Jove,
their sire, within Olympus, telling of the present, and the future, and

RELIGIOUS IDEAS 5

the past, according in their voice; and from their lips sweet speech
flows ceaselessly, whilst the halls of loud-thundering Jove, their sire,
are glad at the delicate utterance of the goddesses, as it is diffused
around : and the top of snowy Olympus rings, and the mansions of
the immortals. They then uttering divine sounds first celebrate in
song the august race of the gods, whom from the beginning Earth
and broad Heaven produced : the gods who sprang from these, givers
of good gifts ; and the next, Jove, sire of gods and men likewise, the
goddesses chaunt as they begin, and chaunting him cease from their
song, how most excellent he is of the gods, and mightiest in strength.
And next the Olympian Muses, daughters of aegis-bearing Jove, glad-
den Jove's spirit within Olympus, by singing of the race of heroes, and
mighty giants ; the Muses I say, whom Mnemosyne, guardian over the
corn-lands of Eleuther, bare, after union with their sire, the son of
Cronus, in Pieria, to be a means of oblivion of ills, and a rest from
cares. For during nine nights did the counsellor Jove associate with
her, apart from the other immortals, ascending her holy bed : but when
at length, I ween, it was the year, and the seasons had revolved towards
the end of the months, and many days had been completed, then she
bare nine accordant daughters, whose care is song, possessing, as
they do, in their bosoms a mind at ease, but a little distance from the
highest peak of snowy Olympus, where are their bright spots-for-
dancing and fair abodes. And besides them the Graces and Cupid
too have dwellings at festivals, and pouring through their lips a lovely
voice, they chaunt the attributes, and celebrate the wise ways of all
the immortals, uttering an exceeding-lovely voice.

And they then went to Olympus, exulting in their beautiful voice,
in their immortal song, and around them, as they sang, dark earth
was re-echoing, and a winsome sound arose from their feet, as they
wended to their sire: But he reigns in Olympus, having in his own
disposal the thunder and the glowing bolt, since he hath conquered by
might his father, Cronus. And duly to the immortals hath he arranged
each office at once, and declared their prerogatives.

Thus, I wot, the Muses tenanting Olympian homes are wont to
sing, nine daughters born of mighty Jove, Clio, Euterpe, Thalia, and
Melpomene, Terpsichore and Erato ; Polymnia, Urania, and Calliope :
and she is eldest of them all. For she also attends in the company
of august kings. Whomsoever of Jove-reared sovereigns the daugh-
ters of great Jove shall have honoured and looked upon at his birth, on
the tongue of such an one they shed a honeyed dew, and from his lips

6 RELIGIOUS IDEAS

drop gentle words ; so then the peoples all look to him, as he decideth
questions of law with righteous judgments; and he speaketh-counsels
unerringly, and quickly stays with wisdom a strife however great. For
therefore are kings wise, in that for their peoples, when misled in the
forum, they easily accomplish the reversal of their acts, exhorting
them with soft words. And as he goes through the city they propi-
tiate him as a god with gentle awe, and he is conspicious among them
when assembled, as is the sacred gift of the Muses among men. Since
from the Muses and far-shooting Apollo are men of song, and harpers
over the earth, but from Jove spring kings : yet happy he whomsoever
the Muses shall have loved; sweet is the sound that flows from his
mouth. For suppose one, even having grief in his fresh sorrowing
spirit, pines away troubled at heart, yet if a minstrel, servant of the
Muses, shall have chaunted the glories of men of yore, and the blessed
gods, who hold Olympus, quickly does he forget his melancholy, nor
does he at all remember his cares ; and quickly have the gifts of the
gods diverted them.

Hail! daughters of Jove; and give the lovely song. And sing
the sacred race of immortals ever-existing, who sprang from Earth
and starry Heaven, and murky Night, whom the briny Deep nourished
Say, too, how at the first the gods and earth were born, and rivers and
boundless deep, rushing with swollen stream, and shining stars, and
the broad Heaven above ; and the gods who were sprung from these,
givers of good gifts ; and say how they divided their wealth, and how
they apportioned their honours, and how at the first they occupied
Olympus with-its-many-ravines. Tell me these things, ye Muses, abid-
ing in Olympian homes from the beginning, and say we what was the
first of them that rose.

In truth then foremost sprang Chaos, and next broad-bosomed
Earth, ever secure seat of all the immortals, who inhabit the peaks
of snow-capt Olympus, and dark dim Tartarus in a recess of Earth
having-broad-ways, and Love, who is most beautiful among immortal
gods, Love that relaxes the limbs, and in the breasts of all gods and
all men, subdues their reason and prudent counsel. But from Chaos
were born Erebus and black Night ; and from Night again sprang forth
JEther and Day, whom she bare after having conceived, by union with
Erebus in love. And Earth, in sooth, bare first indeed like to herself
(in size) starry Heaven, that he might shelter her around on all sides,
that so she might be ever a secure seat for the blessed gods : and she
brought forth vast mountains, lovely haunts of deities, the Nymphs

' RELIOIOOS IDEAS 7

who dwell along the woodland hills. She too bare also the barren Sea,
rushing with swollen stream, the Deep, I mean, without delightsome
love: but afterward, having bedded with Heaven, she bare deep-
eddying Ocean, Cseus and Crius, Hyperion and lapetus, Thea and
Rhea, Themis, Mnemosyne, and Phoebe with golden coronet, and love-
ly Tethys. And after these was born, youngest, wily Cronus, most
savage of their children ; and he hated his vigour-giving sire. Then
brought she forth next the Cyclops, having an over-bearing spirit,
Brontes, and Steropes, and stout-hearted Arges, who both gave to
Jove his thunder, and forged his lightnings. Now these, in sooth,
were in other respects, it is true, like to gods, but a single eye was
fixed in their mid-foreheads. And they from immortals grew up
speaking mortals, and Cyclops was their appropriate name, because,
I wot, in their foreheads one circular eye was fixed. Strength, force,
and contrivances were in their works. But again, from Earth and
Heaven sprung other three sons, great and mighty, scarce to be men-
tioned, Cottus and Briareus and Gyes, children exceeding proud.
From the shoulders of these moved actively an hundred hands, not
brooking approach, and to each above sturdy limbs there grew fifty
heads from their shoulders. Now monstrous strength is powerful,
joined with vast size. For of as many sons as were born of Earth and
Heaven, they were the fiercest, and were hated by their sire from the
very first : as soon as any of these was born, he would hide them all,
and not send them up to the light, in a cave of the earth, and Heaven
exulted over the work of mischief, whilst huge Earth inly groaned,
straitened as she was ; and she devised a subtle and evil scheme. For
quickly having produced a stock of white iron, she forged a large
sickle, and gave the word to her children, and said encouragingly,
though troubled in her heart: "Children of me and of a sire madly
violent, if ye would obey me, we shall avenge the baneful injury of
your father ; for he was the first that devised acts of indignity." So
spake she, but fear seized on them all, I wot, nor did any of them
speak ; till, having gathered courage, great and wily Cronus bespake
his dear mother thus in reply :

"Mother, this deed at any rate I will undertake and accomplish,
since for our sire, in sooth, of-detested-name, I care not; for he was
the first that devised acts of indignity."

Thus spake he, and huge Earth rejoiced much at heart, and hid
and planted him in ambush : in his hand she placed a sickle with jagged
teeth, and suggested to him all the stratagem.

8 RELIGIOUS IDEAS

Then came vast Heaven bringing Night with him, and, eager for
love, brooded around Earth, and lay stretched, I wot, on all sides:
but his son from out his ambush grasped at him with his left hand,
whilst in his right he took the huge sickle, long and jagged-toothed,
and hastily moved off the genitals of his sire, and threw them back to
be carried away behind him. In nowise vainly slipped they from his
hand ; for as many gory drops as ran thence, Earth received them all ;
and when the years rolled round, she gave birth to stern Furies, and
mighty giants, gleaming in arms, with long spears in hand, and
Nymphs whom men call Aslmymphs, (Melioe,) over the boundless
earth. But the genitals, as after first severing them with the steel he
had cast them into the heaving sea from the continent, so kept drifting
long time up and down the deep, and all round kept rising a white
foam from the immortal flesh ; and in it a maiden was nourished ; first
she drew nigh divine Cythera, and thence came next to wave-washed
Cyprus. Then forth stepped an awful, beauteous goddess ; and be-
neath her delicate feet, the verdure throve around : her gods and men
name Aphrodite, the foam-sprung goddess, and fair-wreathed Cythc-
rea — the first because she was nursed in foam, but Cytherea, because
she touched at Cythera ; and Cyprus-born, because she was born in
wave-dashed Cyprus.

And her Eros accompanied and fair Desire followed, when first
she was born, and came into the host of the gods. And from the be-
ginning this honour hath she, and this part hath she obtained by lot
among men and immortal gods, the amorous converse of maidens, their
smiles and wiles, their sweet delights, their love, and blandishment.
Now those sons, their father, mighty Heaven, called by surname
Titans, upbraiding those whom he had himself begotten ; and he was
wont to say that, out-stretching their hands in infatuation, they had
wrought a grave act, but that for it there should be vengeance hereafter.

Night bare also hateful Destiny, and black Fate, and Death : she
bare Sleep likewise, she bare the tribe of dreams ; these did the god-
dess, gloomy Night, bear after union with none. Next again Momus,
and Care full-of-woes, and the Hesperides, whose care are the fair
golden apples beyond the famous ocean, and trees yielding fruit; and
she produced the Destinies, and ruthlessly punished Fates, Clotho,
Lachesis, and Atropos, who assign to men at their births to have good
and evil ; who also pursue transgressions both of men and gods, nor
do the goddesses ever cease from dread wrath, before that, I wot, they
have repaid sore vengeance to him, whosoever shall have sinned. Then

RELIGIOUS IDEAS 9

bare pernicious Night Nemesis also, a woe to mortal men : and after
her she brought forth Fraud, and Wanton-love, and mischievous Old
Age, and stubborn-hearted Strife. But odious Strife gave birth to
grievous Trouble, and Oblivion, and Famine, and tearful Woes, Con-
tests and Slaughters, Fights and Homicides, Contentions, Falsehoods,
Words, Disputes, Lawlessness and Ruin, intimates one of the other,
and the Oath, which most hurts men on the earth, whensoever one has
sworn voluntarily a perjured oath.

And Pontus begat trusty and truthful Nereus, eldest indeed of his
children, but men call him old, because he is unerring as well as mild,
neither doth he forget the laws, but knoweth just and gentle purposes.
And next again, by union with Earth, great Thaumas, and strong
Phorcys, and Ceto with fair-cheek, and Eurybia, having in her breast
a soul of adamant.

From Nereus and fair-haired Doris, daughter of Ocean, perfect
stream, sprung lovely daughters of goddesses in the barren sea, Proto.
Eucrante, Sao, and Amphitrite ; Eudora, Thetis, Galene, Glauce, Cym-
othoe, Spio, Thoe, and charming Halia ; graceful Melita, and Eulimene,
and Agave, Pasithea, Erato and rosy-armed Eunice, Doto and Proto,
Pherusa, and Dynamene, Nesaea, and Actaea, and Protomedia, Doris
and Panope, and beauteous Galatea, lovely Hippothoe, and rosy-armed
Hipponoe, and Cymothoe, who along with Cymatolege, and neat-
ankled Amphitrite, calms with ease the waves on the misty sea, and
the blasts of violent winds ; Cymo and Eione, and Halimede with beau-
teous wreath, and blithe Glauconome, and Pontoporia, Liagore, Eva-
gore, Laomedia, Polynome, Autonoe, and Lysianassa, and Evarne,
both lovely in shape and in beauty faultless, and Psamathe, graceful
in person, and divine Menippe, Neso, Eupompe, Themisto, Pronoe,
and Nemertes, who hath the mind of her immortal sire. These were
born of blameless Nereus, fifty maidens, versed in blameless labours.

And Thaumas wedded Electra, daughter of deep-flowing Ocean :
she bare rapid Iris, and the fair-tressed Harpies, Aello and Ocypete,
who, I ween, accompany the wind-blasts and birds, with swift wings,
for they are wont to fly high above the earth. But to Phorcys next
Ceto of-f air-cheek bare the Graeae, gray from their birth, whom in truth
immortal gods as well as men walking on the ground call Graeae;
namely, Pephredo handsomely-clad, and Enyo of saffron-vestment,
and the Gorgons, who dwell beyond famous Ocean, in the most remote
quarter night-ward, where are the clear-voiced Hesperides, Stheno,
Euryale, and Medusa having-suffered sadly. The latter was mortal,

V 2-1

10 RELIGIOUS IDEAS

but they, the other two, were immortal and ageless, and it was with
the one (Medusa) that the azure-haired god lay in the soft meadow,
and amid the flowers of spring. From her too when, as the tale is,
Perseus had cut off the head, up sprang huge Chrysaor and the steed
Pegasus. To the latter came his name, because I wot he was born
near the springs of Ocean, whilst the other had a golden falchion in
his hands. And he indeed, winging his flight away, left Earth, the
mother of flocks, and came to the immortals ; in Jove's house he dwells,
bearing to counsellor Jove thunder and lightning. But Chrysaor,
by union with Callirhoe, daughter of famous Ocean, begat three-
headed Geryon. Him indeed then mighty Hercules spoiled, amidst
his trailing-footed oxen in sea-girt Erythia, even on that day when he
drove the broad-browed oxen to sacred Tiryns, having crossed the
path of Ocean, and having slain beyond famous Ocean Orthus, and
the herdsmen Eurytion in a dusky stall.

And she brought forth another monster, irresistible, nowise like
to mortal men, or immortal gods, in a hollow cavern ; the divine stub-
born-hearted Echidna, [half nymph, with dark eyes and fair cheeks ;
and half, on the other hand, a serpent huge, and terrible, and vast,]
speckled, and flesh-devouring, 'neath caves of sacred Earth. For
there is her cavern, deep under a hollow rock, afar from immortal
gods as well as mortal men : there I ween have the gods assigned to
her famous mansions to inhabit. But she, the destructive Echidna,
was confined in Arima beneath the earth, a nymph immortal, and all
her days insensible to age. With her they say that Typhaon associated*
in love, a terrible and lawless ravisher for the dark-eyed maid. And
she, having conceived, bare fierce-hearted children. The dog Orthus
first she bare for Geryon, and next, in the second place, she brought
forth the irresistible and ineffable flesh-devourer Cerberus, dog of hell,
with brazen voice and with fifty heads, a bold and strong beast. Third-
ly, again she gave birth to the Lernsean Hydra subtle in destruction,
whom Juno, white-armed goddess, reared, implacably hating the
mighty Hercules. And it Jove's son, Hercules, named of Amphitryon,
along with warlike lolaus, and by the counsels of Pallas the despoiler,
slaughtered with ruthless sword. But she (Echidna) bare Chimaera,
breathing resistless fire, fierce and huge, fleet-footed as well'as strong:
this monster had three heads : one indeed of a grim-visaged lion, one
of a goat, and another of a serpent, a fierce dragon ; in front a lion, a
dragon behind, and in the midst a goat; breathing forth the dread
strength of burning fire. Her Pegasus slew and brave Bellerophoiu

RELIGIOUS IDEAS n

But she, compelled by Orthus, brought forth in sooth the des-
tructive Spinx, a destruction to the Cadmaeans ; and the Nemaean lion,
whom I wot Juno, Jove's glorious consort, reared, and settled in the
corn-lands of Nemaea, a woe to mankind. There abiding truly used
he to devour the tribes of men, whilst he held sway over Tretus of
Nemaea, and over Apesas : but him the might of strong Hercules sub-
dued. And Ceto mingling in love with Phorcys, brought forth, as
youngest-born, a terrible serpent, which in hiding-places of dark earth,
guards all-golden apples, in wide bounds. Such then is the brood of
Ceto and Phorcys. But Tethys to Oceanus bare eddying rivers, Nile
and Alpheus, and deep-eddying Eridanus, Strymon, and Maeander and
Ister of-fair-stream, Phasis, Rhesus, and Achelous with silvery-tide,
Nessus, and Rhodius, Haliacmon and Heptaporus, Granicus, ./Esepus,
and divine Simois, Peneus, Hermus, and pleasant-flowing Caicus ; and
vast Sangarius, Ladon, Parthenius, Evenus, and Ardescus and divine
Scamander. And she bare a sacred race of daughters, who with King
Apollo and the rivers all earth over bring up men to manhood, and
have this prerogative from Jupiter, namely, Pitho, Admete, lanthe,
Electra, Doris and Prymno, and goddess-like Urania, Hippo, and Cly-
mene, Rhodia, and Callirhoe, Zeuxo, and Clytia, Idya and Pasithoe,
Plexaure, Galaxaure, lovely Dione, Melobosis, and Thos, and fair Pol-
ydora, and Circeis in nature amiable, and bright-eyed Pluto, Perseis,
lanira, Acaste, and Xanthe, and winsome Petraea, Menesto, and Eur-
opa, Metis, Eurynome, and saffron-robed Telesto, Crenaeis, Asia as
well as desire-kindling Calypso, Eudora, Tyche, Amphiro, and Ocyroe,
and Styx, who truly is eldest of them all.

Now these were born eldest daughters of Oceanus and Tethys ;
there are, however, many others also : for thrice a thousand are the
tapering-ankled Ocean-nymphs, who truly spreading far and near,
bright children of the gods, haunt everywhere alike earth and the
depths of the lake. And again, as many other rivers flowing with a
ringing noise, sons of Ocean, whom august Tethys bare: of all of
whom 'twere difficult for mortal man to tell the names, but each in-
dividual knows them, of as many as dwell around them. And Thia,
overcome in the embrace of Hyperion, brought forth the great Sun,
and bright Moon, and Morn, that shines for all that-dwell-on-the-earth,
and for immortal gods, who occupy broad heaven. Eurybia too, a
goddess among goddesses, bare to Crius, after union in love, huge As-
traeus, and Pallas, and Perses. who was transcendent in all sciences.
And to Astaeus Morn brought forth the strong-spirited winds, Arges-

12 RELIGIOUS IDEAS

tes, Zephyr, swift-speeding Boreas, and Notus, when she, a goddess,
had mingled in love with a god. And after them the goddess of morn-
ing produced the star Lucifer, and the brilliant stars wherewith the
heaven is crowned.

And Styx, daughter of Ocean, after union with Pallas, bare within
the house Zelus and beauteous-ankled Victory ; and she gave birth to
Strength and Force, illustrious children, whose mansion is not apart
from Jove, nor is there any seat, or any way, where the god does not
go before them ; but ever sit they beside deep-thundering Jupiter. For
thus counselled Styx, imperishable Ocean-nymph, what time the Olym-
pian Lightener summoned all the immortal gods to broad Olympus,
and said that whoso of the gods would fight with him against the
Titans, none of them would he rob of his rewards, but each should have
the honour, to wit, that which he had aforetime among the immortal
gods. And he said that him, who was unhonoured or ungifted by
Cronus, he would establish in honour, and rewards, according to jus-
tice. Then first I wot came imperishable Styx to Olympus along with
her children through the counsels of her sire. And Jove honoured
her, and gave her exceeding gifts.

For her he ordained to be the great Oath-witness of the gods, and
her children to be dwellers-with-her all their days. And even in such
wise as he promised, he performed to them all for ever : for he hath
power and reigns mightily.

And next Phoebe came to the much-beloved couch of Coeus : then
In truth having conceived, a goddess by love of a god, she bare dark-
robed Latona, ever mild, gentle to mortals and immortal gods, mild
from the beginning, most kindly within Olympus. And she bare re-
nowned Asteria, whom erst Perses led to an ample palace to be called
his bride. And she, becoming pregnant, brought forth Hecate, whom
Jove, the son of Cronus, honoured beyond all: and provided for her
splendid gifts, to wit, to hold a share of earth and of barren sea. But
she has obtained honour also from starry Heaven, and lias been hon-
oured chiefly by immortal gods. For even now when anywhere some
one of men upon-the-earth duly propitiates them by doing worthy
sacrifice, he calls on Hecate : and abundant honour very speedily at-
tends him, whose vows the goddess shall receive, that is to say, gra-
ciously, yea, and to him she presents wealth, for she has the power. For
as many as were born of Earth and Heaven, and received a share of
honour, of all these she has the lot, neither did the son of Cronus force
any portion from her, nor did he take away as many honours as she

RELIGIOUS IDEAS 13

had obtained by lot, among the elder gods, the Titans, but she hath
them, as at the first the distribution was from the beginning. Nor,
because she is sole -begotten, has the goddess obtained less of honour,
and her prerogative on earth, and in heaven, and sea, but even still
much more, seeing that Jove honours her. And to whom she wills,
she is greatly present, and benefits him, and he is distinguished, whom
she may will, in the forum among the people ; and when men arm for
mortal-destroying war, then the goddess draws nigh to whom she will,
kindly to proffer victory and to extend renown to them : and in judg-
ment she sits beside august kings : and propitiously again, when men
contend in the games, there the goddes stands near these also, and
helps them.

And when he has conquered by strength and might, a man carries
with ease a noble prize, and rejoicingly presents glory to his parents.
Propitious is she also to be present with horsemen, whom she will ;
and to them who ply the rough silvery main ; and they pray to -Hecate
and the loud-sounding Earth-shaker. Easily too the glorious goddess
presents an ample spoil, and easily is she wont to withdraw it when
it is shown, that is, if she is so disposed in her mind. And (propitious
along with Mercury to increase the flock in the folds) the herds of cattle,
and the droves, and broad herds of goats, and flocks of fleecy sheep,
if she choose in her heart, she makes great from small, and is wont to
make less from being many. Thus, in truth, though being sole-begot-
ten from her mother, she has been honoured with rewards amidst all
the immortals. And the son of Cronus made her the nursing-mother-
of-children, who after her have beheld with their eyes the light of far-
seeing Morn. Thus is she from the beginning nursing-mother, and
such are her honours.

Rhea too, embraced by Cronus, bare renowned children, Vesta,
Demeter, and Here of-the-golden-sandals, and mighty Hades, who
inhabits halls beneath the earth, having a ruthless heart ; and loud-re-
sounding Neptune, and counsellor Jupiter, father of gods as well as
men, by whose thunder also the broad earth quakes. And them in-
deed did huge Cronus devour, namely, every one who came to the
mother's knees from her holy womb, with this intent, that none other
of the illustrious heaven-born might hold royal honour among the im-
mortals. For he had heard from Earth and starry Heaven that it was
fated for him, strong though he was, to be subdued by his own child,
through the counsels of mighty Jove: wherefore he did not keep a
careless watch, but lying in wait for them, kept devouring his own

14 RELIGIOUS IDEAS

sons ; whilst a grief not-to-be-forgotten possessed Rhea." But at length
she was about to bear Jove, the sire of gods as well as men, then it
was that she essayed to supplicate her parents dear, Earth and starry
Heaven, to contrive a plan how she might without observation bring
forth her son, and take vengeance on the furies of their sire, against
his children, whom great and wily Cronus devoured.

But they duly heard and complied with their dear daughter, and
explained to her as much as it had been fated should come to pass
concerning king Cronus, and his strong-hearted son. And they sent
her to Lyctus, to the fertile tract of Crete, when I wot she was about
to bear the youngest of her sons, mighty Jove ; whom indeed vast Earth
received from her to rear and nurture in broad Crete. Thereupon in-
deed came she, bearing him through the swift dark night, to Lyctus
first, and took him in her hands and hid him in a deep cave, 'neath the
recesses of the divine earth, in the dense and wooded ^Egean mount.
But to the great prince, the son of Heaven, former sovereign of the
gods, she gave a huge stone, having wrapped it in swathes : which he
then took in his hands, and stowed away into his belly, wretch as he
was, nor did he consider in his mind that against him for the future
his own invincible and untroubled son was left instead of a stone, who
was shortly about to subdue him by strength of hand, and to drive him
from his honours, and himself to reign among the immortals.

Quickly then, I ween, throve the spirit and beauteous limbs of the
king, and, as years came round, having been beguiled by the wise coun-
sels of Earth, huge Cronus, wily counsellor, let loose again his off-
spring, having been conquered by the arts and strength of his son. And
first he disgorged the stone, since he swallowed it last. This stone Jove
fixed down upon the earth with-its- broad-ways, in divine Pytho, be-
neath the clefts of Parnassus, to be a monument thereafter, a marvel
to mortal men. Then he loosed from destructive bonds his father's
brethren, the sons of Heaven, whom his sire had bound in his folly.
Who showed gratitude to him for his kindnesses, and gave him the
thunder, and the smoking bolt, and lightning ; but aforetime huge Earth
had hidden them : trusting on these, he rules over mortals and immor-
tals.

lapetus, moreover, wedded the damsel Clymene, a fair-ankled
Oceanid, and ascended into a common bed. And she bare him Atlas,
a stout-hearted son, and brought forth exceeding-famous Menaetius,
and artful Prometheus, full of various wiles, and Epimetheus of-erring-
mind, who was from the first an evil to gain-seeking men : for he first,

RELIGIOUS IDEAS 15

I wot, received from Jove the clay-formed woman, a virgin. But the
insolent Menaetius wide-seeing Jove thrust down to Erebus, having
stricken him with flaming lightning, on account of his arrogance, and
overweening strength.

But Atlas upholds broad Heaven by strong necessity, before the
clear-voiced Hesperides, standing on earth's verge, with head and un-
wearied hands. For this lot counselling Jove apportioned to him.
And wily-minded Prometheus he bound in indissoluble bonds, with
painful chains, having thrust them through the middle of a column.
And he urged against him an eagle with-wings-outspread : but it kept
feeding on his immortal liver, whilst it would increase to a like size
all around by night, to what the eagle with-wings-outspread had eaten
during the whole day before. This bird indeed, I wot, Hercules, val-
iant son of fair-ankled Alcmene, slew, and repelled from the son of
lapetus the baneful pest and released him from his anxieties, not against
the wishes of high-reigning Olympian Jove, that so the renown of
Thebes-sprung Hercules might be yet more than afore time over the
many-feeding earth. Thus, I wot, he honours his very famous son,
through veneration for him: and though incensed, ceased from the
wrath which he was before cherishing, because he strove in plans
against the almighty son of Cronus. For when gods and mortal men
were contending at Mecome, then did he set before him a huge ox,
having divided it with ready mind, studying to deceive the wisdom of
Jove. For here, on the one hand, he deposited the flesh and entrails
with rich fat on the hide, having covered it with the belly of the ox ;
and there, on the other hand, he laid down, having well disposed them
with subtle art, the white bones of the ox, covering them with white
fat. Then it was that the sire of gods and men addressed him, "Son
of lapetus, far-famed among all kings, how unfairly, good friend, you
have divided the portions." Thus spake rebukingly Jupiter, skilled in
imperishable counsels. And him in his turn wily Prometheus address-
ed, laughing low, but he was not forgetful of subtle art : "Most glo-
rious Jove, greatest of ever-living gods, choose which of these your
inclination within your breast bids you." He spake, I ween, in sub-
tlety: but Jove knowing imperishable counsels was aware, in sooth,
and not ignorant of his guile; and was boding in his heart evils to
mortal men, which also were about to find accomplishment. Then with
both hands lifted he up the white fat. But he was incensed in mind,
and wrath came around him in spirit, when he saw the white bones of
the ox arranged with guileful art. And thenceforth the tribes of men

16 RELIGIOUS IDEAS

on the earth burn to the immortals white bones on fragrant altars.
Then cloud-compelling Jove addressed him, greatly displeased : "Son
of lapetus, skilled in wise plans beyond all, you do not, good sir, I
wot, yet forget subtle art." Thus spake in his wrath Jove knowing
imperishable counsels : from that time forward in truth, ever mindful
of the fraud, he did not give the strength of untiring fire to wretched
mortal men, who dwell upon the earth.

But the good son of lapetus cheated him, and stole the far-seen
splendour of untiring fire in a hollow fennel-stalk ; but it stung high-
thundering Jove to his heart's core, and incensed his spirit, when he
saw the radiance of fire conspicuous among men. Forthwith then
wrought he evil for men in requital for the fire bestowed. For from
the earth the famous Vulcan, halting in both feet, fashioned the image
of a modest maiden, through the counsels of the son of Cronus. And
the goddess glancing-eyed Minerva girded and arrayed her in silver-
white raiment ; and from her head she held with her hands a curiously
embroidered veil, a marvel to look upon : and Pallas Athene placed
around her about her head lovely garlands fresh-budding with mead-
ow-flowers, and around her head she set a golden coronet, which re-
nowned Vulcan lame with both feet had made himself, having wrought
it carefully by hand, out of compliment to Jove his sire. On it had
been wrought many curious monsters, a marvel to view, as many as
in great abundance the continent and the sea maintain. Many of
these he introduced, (and much elegance beamed from it,) of wondrous
beauty, like to living animals gifted with sounds.

But when he had wrought a beauteous evil instead of good, he
led her forth even where were the rest of gods and men, exulting as
she was in the adornment of the gleaming-eyed daughter-of-a-strong-
father : and wonder seized immortal gods as well as mortal men, when
they beheld a deep snare, against which man's arts are vain. Now from
her is the race of tender women. For from her is a pernicious race,
and tribes of women, a great source of hurt, dwell along with mortal
men, helpmates not of consuming poverty, but of surfeit. And as when
in close-roofed hives bees feed drones, sharers in bad works, the form-
er through the whole day till sunset are busy day by day, and make
white combs, whilst the latter, remaining within in the close-roofed
hives, reap the labours of others for their own maws.

Just so to mortal men high-thundering Jove gave women as an
evil, helpmates of painful toils : another evil too did he provide instead
of good ; to wit, whosoever shunning marriage and the ills that women

RELIGIOUS IDEAS 17

work, declines to marry, and has come to old age pernicious, through
want of one to tend his latter days ; he lives not, it is true, in lack of
subsistence, but, when he is dead, distant kindred divide his posses-
sions : whilst to whomsoever, on the other hand, the lot of marriage
shall have fallen, and he has had a good wife congenial to his heart,
to him then for ever ill contends with good to be with him : but whoso
finds a baneful breed, lives with an incessant care to spirit and heart
within his breast, and is in irremediable woe.

Thus it is not possible to deceive or overreach the mind of Jove,
for neither did Prometheus, guileless son of lapetus, escape from be-
neath his severe wrath ; but a great chain, by necessity, constrains him,
very knowing though he is.

But when first their sire became wroth in spirit against Briareus,
Cottus, and Gyes, he bound them with a strong bond, admiring their
overweening courage, and also their form and bulk ; and he made them
dwell beneath the roomy earth : then they in sooth in grief dwelling
'neath the earth, sat at the verge, on the extremities of vast Earth, very
long, afflicted, having a great woe at heart ; but them the son of Cronus,
and other immortal gods, whom fair-haired Rhea bare in the embrace
of Cronus, by the counsels of Earth brought up again to light : for she
recounted to them at large everything, how that they should along"
with those (Titans) gain victory and splendid glory. Long time then
they fought, incurring soul-vexing toil, the Titan gods and as many
as were born from Cronus, in opposition to each other in stout con-
flicts ; the one side, the glorious Titans from lofty Othrys, and the
other, I wot, the gods, givers of good things, whom Rhea the fair-
haired had borne to Cronus, in union with him, from Olympus. They
then, I ween, in soul-distressing battle, one party with the other, were
fighting continuously mere than ten years. Nor was there any rid-
dance or end of severe contention to either party, and the completion
of the war was extended equally to either. But when at length Jove
set before them all things agreeable, to wit, nectar and ambrosia, on
which the gods themselves fed, a noble spirit grew in the breasts of
all. And when they had tasted the nectar and delightful ambrosia,
then at length the sire of gods and men addressed them : "Hear me,
illustrious children of Earth and Heaven, that I may speak what my
spirit within my breast prompts me to speak. For now a very long
space are we fighting, each in opposition to other, concerning victory
and power, all our days, the Titan gods and as many of us as are
sprung from Cronus. Now do ye show against the Titans in deadly

18 RELIGIOUS IDEAS

fight both mighty force and hands invincible, in gratitude for our
mild loving-kindness, namely, after how many sufferings ye came
back again to the light, from afflictive bondage, through our counsels,
from the murky gloom." Thus he spake ; and him again the blame-
less Cottus addressed in answer : "Excellent Lord, thou dost not tell
things unlearnt by us : but we too are aware that thy wisdom is ex-
cellent, and excellent thine intellect, and that thou hast been to the
immortals an averter of terrible destruction. And back again, from
harsh bonds, have we come from the murky darkness, through thy
thoughtful care, O royal son of Cronus, having experienced treat-
ment unhoped-for. Wherefore also now with stedfast purpose and
prudent counsel we will protect thy might in dread conflict, fighting
with the Titans in stout battles." Thus spake he: and the gods,
givers of good, applauded, when they had heard his speech : and their
spirit was eager for battle still more than before, and they stirred up
unhappy strife all of them, female as well as male, on that day, both
Titan gods, and as many as had sprung from Cronus, and they whom
Jove sent up to light from Erebus, beneath the earth, terrible and
strong, having overweening force. From the shoulders of these a
hundred hands outsprung to all alike, and to each fifty heads grew
from their shoulders over their sturdy limbs. They then were pitted
against the Titans in deadly combat, holding huge rocks in their
sturdy hands. But the Titans on the other side made strong their
squadrons with alacrity, and both parties were showing work of hand
and force at the same time, and the boundless sea re-echoed terribly,
and earth resounded loudly, and broad heaven groaned, being shaken,
and vast Olympus was convulsed from its base under the violence of
the immortals, and a severe quaking came to murky Tartarus, namely,
a hollow sound of countless chase of feet, and of strong battle-
strokes : to such an extent, I ween, did they hurl groan-causing weap-
ons. And the voice of both parties reached to starry heaven, as they
cheered ; for they came together with a great war-cry.

Nor longer, in truth, did Jove restrain his fury, but then forth-
with his heart was filled with fierceness, and he began also to exhibit
all his force: then, I wot, from heaven and from Olympus together
he went forth lightening continually: and the bolts close together
with thunder and lightning flew duly from his sturdy hand, whirling
a sacred flash, in frequent succession, while all-around life-giving
Earth was crashing in conflagration, and the immense forests on all
sides crackled loudly with fire. All land was boiling, and Ocean's

RELIGIOUS IDEAS 19

streams, and the barren sea : warm vapour was circling the earth-born
Titans, and the incessant blaze reached the divine dense-atmosphere,
whilst flashing radiance of thunderbolt and lightning was bereaving
their eyes of sight, strong heroes though they were. Fearful heat
likewise possessed Chaos : and it seemed, to look at, face to face, with
the eye, and to hear the sound with the ear, just as if earth and broad
heaven above were threatening to meet : (for such an exceeding crash
would have arisen from earth falling in ruins, and heaven dashing it
down from above.) Such a din there rose when the gods clashed in
strife. The winds too at the same time were stirring up quaking and
dust together, thunder and lightning and smoking bolt, shafts of the
mighty Jove; and they were bearing shout and battle-cry into the
midst, one of another, then a terrible noise of dreadful strife was
roused, strength of prowess was put forth, and the battle was inclined :
but before that time assailing one another, they were fighting inces-
santly in stern conflict. Now the others, I wot, among the first ranks
roused the keen fight, Cottus, Briareus, and Gyes insatiable in war,
who truly were hurling from sturdy hands three hundred rocks close
upon each other, and they had overshadowed the Titans with missiles,
sent them 'neath the broad- way ed earth, and bound them in irksome
bonds, (having conquered them with their hands, over-haughty though
they were) as far beneath under earth as heaven is from the earth, for
equal is the space from earth to murky Tartarus. For nine nights and
days also would a brazen anvil be descending from the heaven and
come on the tenth to the earth : and nine days as well as nights again
would a brazen anvil be descending from the earth, to reach on the tenth
to Tartarus. Around it moreover a brazen fence has been forged : and
about it Night is poured in three rows around the neck; but above
spring the roots of Earth and barren Sea. There, under murky dark-
ness, the Titan gods lie hidden by the counsels of cloud-compelling
Jupiter in a dark, drear place, where are the extremities of vast Earth.
These may not go forth, for Neptune has placed above them brazen
gates, and a wall goes round them on both sides. There dwell Gyes,
and Cottus, and high-spirited Briareus, faithful guards of aegis-bear-
ing Jove. And there are the sources and boundaries of dusky Earth,
of murky Tartarus, of barren Sea, and starry Heaven, all in their
order: boundaries oppressive and gloomy, which also even gods
abhor, a vast chasm, not even for a whole round of a year would one
reach the pavement, after having first been within the gates : but hur-
ricane would bear him onward hither and thither, distressing him,

20 RELIGIOUS IDEAS

and dreadful even to immortal gods is this prodigy, and there the
dread abodes of gloomy Night stand shrouded in dark clouds. In
front of these the son of lapetus stands and holds broad Heaven,
with his head and unwearied hands, unmovedly, where Night and
Day also drawing nigh are wont to salute each other, as they cross
the vast brazen threshold. The one is about to go down within,
whilst the other comes forth abroad, nor ever doth the abode con-
strain both within ; but constantly one at any rate being outside the
dwelling, wanders over the earth, while the other again being within
the abode, awaits the season of her journey, until it come; the one
having a far-seeing light for men-on-the-earth, and the other, des-
tructive Night, having Sleep, the brother of Death, in its hands, being
shrouded in hazy mist.

And there the sons of obscure Night hold their habitation, Sleep
and Death, dread gods : nor ever doth the bright sun look upon them
with his rays, as he ascends the heaven, or descends from the heaven.
Of whom in'deed the one tarries on the earth and the broad surface
of the sea, silently and soothingly to men ; but of the other, iron is the
heart, and brazen is his ruthless soul within his breast ; and whomso-
ever of men he may have first caught, he holdeth : and he is hostile
even to immortal gods. There in the front stand the resounding
mansions of the infernal god, of mighty Hades, and awful Persephone
besides ; and a fierce dog keeps guard in front, a ruthless dog ; and he
has an evil trick : those who enter he fawns upon with his tail and
both ears alike, yet he suffers them not to go forth back again, but
lies in wait and devours whomsoever he may have caught going forth
without the gates of strong Hades and dread Persephone. There
too dwells a goddess odious to immortals, dread Styx, eldest daughter
of back-flowing Ocean: and apart from the gods she inhabits re-
nowned dwellings vaulted by huge rocks ; and round about on all sides
they are strengthened to Heaven by silver columns. And seldom
goes the fleet-footed daughter of Thaumas, Iris, on a message over
the broad back of the sea, namely, when haply strife and quarrel shall
have arisen among the immortals : and whosoever, I wot, of them that
hold Olympian dwellings, utters falsehood, then also Jove is wont to
send Iris to bring from far in a golden ewer the great oath of the gods,
the renowned water, cold as it is, which also runs down from a steep
and lofty rock; but in abundance beneath the roomy Earth flows a
branch of Ocean from the sacred river through black Night ; and a
tenth portion has been assigned to it. In nine portions indeed, roll-

RELIGIOUS IDEAS 21

ing around Earth and also the broad back of the Sea with silver whirl-
pools, he (Ocean) falls into the brine; but the other one part flows
forth from a rock, a great bane to the gods. Whosoever of immortals
that occupy the top of snowy Olympus, shall have offered of this as a
libation, and sworn over it a false oath, lies breathless until the com-
pletion of a year, nor ever comes near the repast of nectar and am-
brosia, but also lies breathless and speechless on a strown couch, and
a baneful stupor over-shrouds him. But when he has fulfilled his
malady until the full year, then another after another severer trouble
succeeds for him. And for nine years he is parted from the ever-living
gods ; nor ever dees he mix with them in council nor in feasts for nine
whole years ; but in the tenth he mingles again in the assemblies of
the gods immortal, who occupy Olympian dwellings. Such a grave
oath, I wot, have the gods made the imperishable water or Styx, that
ancient water, which also runs through a very rugged tract. There
too are the sources and boundaries of dusky Earth, and murky Tar-
tarus, and barren Sea, and starry Heaven, all in order; boundaries
oppressive and gloomy, which also even gods abhor. And there are
gleaming gates and a brazen threshold, unshaken and fixed upon far-
extending foundations, self-growing; and before it, outside of all the
gods, beyond gloomy Chaos, the Titans dwell. But the famed allies
of loud-crashing Jove inhabit dwellings under the foundations of the
Ocean, namely, Cottus and Gyes. Briareus indeed, for his part,
strong as he was, deep-sounding Earth-shaker made his son-in-law,
and gave him to wife his daughter Cymopolia.

But when Jove had driven the Titans out from Heaven, huge
Earth bare her youngest-born son, Typhoeus, by the embrace of Tar-
tarus, through golden Aphrodite. Whose hands, indeed, are apt for
deeds on the score of strength, and untiring the feet of the strong god ;
and from his shoulders there were a hundred heads of a serpent, a
fierce dragon, playing with dusky tongues, and from the eyes in his
wondrous heads fire sparkled beneath the brows : whilst from all his
hea'ds fire was gleaming, as he looked keenly. In all his terrible
heads, too, were voices sending forth every kind of sound ineffable.
For one while indeed they would utter sounds, so as for the gods to
understand, and at another time again the voice of a loud-bellowing
bull, untameable in force, and proud in utterance; at another time,
again, that of a lion possessing a daring spirit ; at another yet again
they would sound like to whelps, wondrous to hear; and at another
he would hiss, and the lofty mountains resound. And, in sooth, then

22 RELIGIOUS IDEAS

would there have been done a deed past remedy, and he, even he,
would have reigned over mortals and immortals, unless, I wot, the
sire of gods and men had quickly observed him. Harshly then he
thundered, and heavily, and terribly the earth re-echoed around ; and
the broad heaven above, and the sea, and streams of ocean, and the
abysses of earth. But beneath his immortal feet vast Olympus trem-
bled, as the king uprose, and earth groaned beneath. And the heat
from both caught the dark-coloured sea, both of the thunder and
lightning, and fire from the monster, the heat arising from the thun-
der-storms, winds, and burning lightning. And all earth and heaven
and sea were boiling; and huge billows roared around the shores
about and around, beneath the violence of gods ; and unallayed quak-
ing arose. Pluto trembled, monarch over the dead beneath ; and the
Titans under Tartarus, standing about Cronus, trembled also, on ac-
count of the unceasing tumult and dreadful contention. But Jove,
when in truth he had raised high his wrath, and had taken his arms,
his thunder and lightning, and smoking belt, leapt up, and smote him
from Olympus, and scorched all-around all the wondrous heads of
the terrible monster.

But when at length he had quelled it, after having smitten it with
blows, the monster fell down lamed, and huge Earth groaned. But
the flame from the lightning-blasted monster flashed forth in the
mountain hollows, hidden and rugged, when he was stricken, and
much was the vast earth burnt and melted by the boundless vapour,
like as pewter, heated by the art of youths, and by the well-bored
melting-pit; or iron, which is the hardest of metals, subdued in the
dells of the mountain by blazing fire, melts in the sacred earth beneath
the hands of Vulcan. So, I wot, was earth melted in the glare of
burning fire. Then, troubled in spirit, he hurled him into wide Tar-
tarus.

Now from Typhoeus is the strength of winds moist-blowing,
except the south-west, the north, and Argestes, and Zephyr, who also
indeed are a race from the gods, a great blessing to mortals. But
the others, being random gusts, breathe over the sea. And these in
truth falling upon the darksome deep, rage with baneful hurricane,
a great hurt to mortals ; and now here, now there they blow, and
scatter barks, and destroy sailors: nor is there any succour from ill
to men, who encounter them on the ocean. But these again even o'er
the boundless flowery earth spoil the pleasant works of earth-born men,
filling them with dust and wearisome uproar. But when, I wot, the
blessed gods had fulfilled their labour, and contended with the Titans

RELIGIOUS IDEAS 23

perforce on the score of honours, then it was, I say, that they urged
far-seeing Jove, by the advice of Earth, to rule and reign over immor-
tals : and he duly distributed honours amongst them.

And Jupiter, king of the gods, made Metis first his wife ; Metis,
most wise of deities as well as mortal men. But when now at length
she was about to give birth to Minerva, gleaming-eyed goddess, then
it was that having by deceit beguiled her mind with flattering words,
he placed her within his own belly by the advice of Earth, and of starry
Heaven. For thus they persuaded him, lest other of everliving gods
should possess sovereign honour in the room of Jove. For of her it
was fated that wise children should be born : first the glancing-eyed
Tritonian maiden, having equal might and prudent counsel with her
sire ; and then, I ween, she was going to give-birth-to a son, as king
of gods and men, with an overbearing spirit, but that in sooth Jove
deposited her first in his own belly, that the goddess might indicate
to him both good and bad. Next he wedded bright Themis, who bare
the Hours, Eunomia, Dice, and blooming Peace, who care for their
works for mortal men ; and the Parcae, to whom counselling Jove gave
most honour, Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos, who also give to men
good and evil to possess. And Eurynome, daughter of Ocean, having
a very lovely form, bare him the fair-cheeked Graces, Aglaia, and
Euphrosyne, and winsome Thalia; from whose eyelids also as they
gazed dropped Love, unnerving limbs, and sweetly too look they
under their brows. But he came to the couch of much-nourishing
Demeter, who bare him white-armed Proserpine ; her whom Pluto
ravished fro'm her mother : and sage Jupiter gave her. And next he
was enamoured of beautiful-haired Mnemosyne, of whom were born
to him the Muses nine, with-golden-fillets, to whom festivals, and the
delight of song, are wont to be a pleasure.

But Apollo and Artemis, rejoicing-in-arrows, a lovely offspring
beyond all the heavenly-beings, Latona in sooth brought forth, after
union in love with aegis-bearing Jove. And last made he blooming
Juno his spouse. She bare Hebe, and Mars, and Lucina, having been
united in love with the king of gods and men. But by himself, from
his head, he produced glancing-eyed Tritonis, fierce, strife-stirring,
army-leading, unsubdued, and awful, to whom dins, and wars, and
battles are a delight. And Juno, without having been united in love,
brought forth famous Vulcan, and put out all her strength, and strove
with her husband ; Vulcan, distinguished in arts from amongst all the
heaven -born.

24 RELIGIOUS IDEAS

But from Amphitrite and the loud-roaring Earth-shaker sprang
great and widely-powerful Triton, who occupies the depth of the sea,
and inhabits golden houses beside his dear mother and his royal sire,
being a terrible god. To shield-piercing Mars, however, Cytherea
bare Fear and Terror, formidable deities, even they who route dense
phalanxes of men in horrid war, with the help of city-spoiler Mars ; and
Harmonia, whom high-spirited Cadmus made his spouse.

Then to Jove, I wot, Maia, daughter of Atlas, bare glorious Her-
mes, herald of immortals, having ascended his holy couch. And to
him, in sooth, Semele, daughter of Cadmus, bare an illustrious son,
even jocund Bacchus, after union in love, mortal though she was, an
immortal. But now both are deities. And Alcmena, after union in
love with cloud-compelling Jove, bare Hercules the strong.

But Vulcan, far-famed, crippled god, took to wife blooming Ag-
laia, youngest of the Graces. And Bacchus, of golden hair, took for
his blooming bride auburn-tressed Ariadne, daughter of Minos. And
her the son of Cronus made immortal, and unsusceptible of old age
for him. And fair-ankled Alcmena's valiant son, mighty Hercules,
having accomplished grievous toils, made Hebe, daughter of mighty
Jove and Juno-with-golden-sandals, his bashful wife in snowy Olym-
pus: happy hero, who having achieved a great work, dwells among
the immortals uninjured and ageless evermore. To the unwearied
Sun the famous Oceanid, Perseis, bare Circe and king Oeetes. And
Oeetes, son of man-enlightening Sun, wedded beauteous-cheeked
Idyia, daughter of Ocean, perfect river, by the will of the gods. But
she then, subdued in love through golden Aphrodite, brought forth
to him fair-ankled Medea.

Now fare ye well, gods dwelling in Olympian mansions; [Islands
and Continents, and briny Sea within;] and now Olympian Muses,
sweet of speech, daughters of aegis-bearing Jove, sing ye the tribe of
goddesses, as many as in truth having been united, though immortal,
with mortal men, gave birth to children resembling gods.

Ceres, divine among goddesses, after union in delightsome love,
bare Plutus to the hero lasius, in a thrice-ploughed fallow, in the
fertile country of Crete, a kind god, who goes over all the earth, and
the broad surface of the sea ; and to him that has chanced upon him,
and into whose hands he mav have come, him, I say, he is wont to
make rich, and presents to him much wealth. And to Cadmus, Har-
monia, daughter of golden Aphrodite, bare Ino, Semele, and fair-
cheeked Agave, and Autonoe, whom Aristaeus of-clustering-locks

RELIGIOUS IDEAS 25

wedded, and Polydorus in tower-circled Thebes.

But Callirhoe, daughter of Ocean, united to brave-hearted Chry-
saor in union of all-golden Aphrodite, bare a son the strongest of all
mortals, Geryon, whom mighty Hercules slew, for the sake of the
trailing-foot oxen in island Erythea. And to Tithonus Aurora bare
Memmon with-brazen-helm, king of the ^Ethiopians, and the sov-
ereign Hemathion. But to Cephalus in truth she produced an illus-
trious son, the brave Phaethon, a man like to the gods, whom, I wot,
when young, in the tender flower of glorious youth, a lad, conscious
but of young fancies, laughter-loving Aphrodite snatched up, and
rushed away, and she made him, in her sacred fanes, her nightly tem-
ple-keeper, a divine Genius. And the daughter of Oeetes, Jove-des-
cended king, Jason, son of JEson, by the counsels of ever-living gods,
carried off from Oeetes, after he had fulfilled the grievous toils, which,
being many in number, the great and overbearing king, insolent and
infatuated Pelias, doer of deeds of violence, imposed upon him. Which
having achieved, after having toiled much, the son of ^Eson arrived at
lolchos, bearing in his fleet ship a dark-eyed maiden, and her he made
his blooming bride. Yes, and she, having been yoked with Jason, shep-
herd of his people, bore a son Medeus, whom Chiron, son of Philyra,
reared on the mountains ; whilst the purpose of mighty Jove was being
fulfilled. But of the daughters of Nereus, ancient sea-god, Psamathe
in truth, divine among goddesses, bare Phocus in the embrace of
1/Eacus, through golden Aphrodite : and the goddess Thetis, of the sil-
ver feet, yielding to Peleus, gave birth to Achilles the lion-hearted,
who-broke-the-ranks-of-men.

Fair-wreathed Cytherea too, I wot, blending in delightsome love
with the hero Anchises, bare TEneas on the peaks of many-valleyed,
woody Ida. But Circe, daughter of the Sun, born-of-Hyperion, by
the love of Ulysses of-endur ing-heart, gave birth to Agrius and blame-
less and strong Latinus ; Telegonus also she bare through golden
Aphrodite. Now these in truth very far in a recess of sacred isles,
reigned over all the very far-renowned Tyrrhenians. But Calypso,
divine among goddesses, bore to Ulysses Nausithous and Nausinous
after union in delightful love. These, though immortal, having been
united with mortal men, gave birth to children like unto the gods.
And now sing ye the tribe of women, ye sweet-spoken Olympian
Muses, daughters of segis-bearing Jove.

V 2-2

26 RELIGIOUS IDEAS

THE WORKS AND DAYS

Ye Muses from Pieria, celebrating in songs, come speak of Jove,
and chaunt your sire, through whom mortal men are alike famed and
fameless, named and nameless, by the will of mighty Jove. For with
ease indeed he maketh strong, and with ease bringeth low the strong :
and easily he minisheth the illustrious, and increaseth the obscure:
easily too doth high-thundering Jove, who dwelleth in mansions high-
est, straighten the crooked, and blast the proud of heart. Hear and
behold and heed, and direct the judgments righteously, O thou ! Now
would I narrate what is true, O Perses.

Not, I ween, was there one kind only of Contention, but there
are two upon the earth : the one a sensible man would commend, but
the other is blameworthy : and they have spirits minded different ways.
For the one fosters evil war and discord, cruel as she is : her at any
rate no mortal loves, but of necessity, by the counsels of the immor-
tals, they honour harsh Strife. The other, however, gloomy Night
bare first, and her, by far the best, the high-throned son of Cronos,
dwelling in the heavens, placed at earth's roots and among men: 'tis
she also who still rouses a man to work, even though he be inactive.
For any one when idle having 'ooked upon another being rich, he, I
say, makes haste to plough and to plant, and well to order his house ;
for neighbour rivals neighbour, when hastening toward riches; but
this contention is good for mortals. Both potter is jealous of potter,
and craftsman of craftsman ; and poor man has a grudge against poor
man, and poet against poet.

But do thou, Perses, lay up these things in thy mind, nor let Con-
tention rejoicing-in-ills hinder thy mind from work, whilst it gapes
at strifes, and is a listener in the forum. For rare indeed is the time
for contentions and suits-in-the-forum to him, whose substance is not
yearly stored up within, in season, substance which Earth bears, the
gift of Ceres.

When thou hast satisfied thyself with these, then, and not till
then, further contentions and strife concerning the possessions of
others : but it will never again be allowed you to do thus : let us how-
ever forthwith put an end to the dispute by righteous judgments which
are the best from Jove. For already in sooth have we divided the
inheritance, and thou didst carry off much by plunder : flattering much

RELIGIOUS IDEAS 27

the bribe-swallowing judges, whose will it is to give judgment thus.
Fools ! and they know neither how much half exceeds the whole, nor
how great advantage is in mallow and asphodel.

Now the gods keep hidden for men their means of subsistence :
for else easily mightest thou even in one day have wrought, so that
thou shouldest have enough for the year, even though being idle ; else
straightway wouldst thou lay-by the rudder above the smoke, and
the labours of oxen and of toil-enduring mules would be undone. But
Jove in wrath at his heart concealed it, because wily Prometheus had
beguiled him. Therefore, I ween, he devised baneful cares for men.
And fire he hid, which indeed the good son of lapetus stole back for
mankind from counsellor Jove in a hollow fennel-stalk, after he had
escaped the notice of Jove delighting in the thunderbolt.

Him then cloud-compelling Jove addressed in wrath : "O son of
lapetus, knowing beyond all in counsels, thou exultest in having
stolen fire, and deceived my wisdom, a severe woe to thyself and to
men that shall come after. To them now will I give evil instead of
fire, wherewith all may delight themselves at heart, hugging their own
evil." So spake he : and out-laughed the sire of men and gods : but
he bade Vulcan the illustrious with all speed mix earth with water, and
endue it with man's voice and strength, and to liken in countenance
to immortal goddesses the fair, lovely beauty of a maiden: then he
bade Minerva teach her work, to weave the highly wrought web ; and
golden Aphrodite to shed around her head grace, and painful desire,
and cares that-waste-the-limbs : but to endue her with a shameless
mind and tricksy manners he charged the conductor, Argicide Mer-
cury.

So he bade : but they obeyed Jove, the sovereign of Cronus : and
forthwith out of the earth the famous crippled-god fashioned one like
unto a modest maiden, through the counsels of Jove, the son of Cro-
nus: and the goddess, gleaming-eyed Minerva, girdled and arrayed
her: and around her skin the goddess Graces and august Persuasion
hung golden chains, whilst fair-tressed Hours crowned her about with
flowers of spring : and Pallas Minerva adapted every ornament to her
person. But in her breast, I wot, conductor Mercury wrought false-
hoods, and wily speeches, and tricksy manners, by the counsels of
deep-thundering Jove : and the herald of the gods placed within her,
I ween, a winning voice : and this woman he called Pandora, because
all, inhabiting Olympian mansions, bestowed on her a gift, a mischief
to inventive men.

28 RELIGIOUS IDEAS

But when he had perfected the dire inextricable snare, father Jove
proceeded to send to Epimetheus the famous slayer-of-Argus, swift
messenger of the gods, carrying her as a gift: nor did Epimetheus
consider how Prometheus had told him never to accept a gift from
Olympian Jove, but to send it back, lest haply any ill should arise to
mortals. But he, after receiving it, felt the evil, when now he pos-
sessed it.

Now aforetime indeed the races of men were wont to live on the
earth apart and free from ills, and without harsh labour, and painful
diseases, which have brought death on mortals. [For in wretched-
ness men presently grow old ] But the woman having with her hands
removed the great lid from the vessel, dispersed them : then contrived
she baneful cares for men. And Hope alone there in unbroken abode
kept remaining within, beneath the verge of the vessel, nor did it flit
forth abroad : for before that, she had placed-on the lid of the vessel,
by the counsels of segis-bearing, cloud-compeller Jove. But myriad
other ills have roamed forth among men. For full indeed is earth of
woes, and full the sea : and in the day as well as at night diseases un-
bidden haunt mankind, silently bearing ills to men, for counsellor Jove
hath taken from them their voice. Thus not in any way is it possible
to escape the will of Jove.

But if you will, another tale will I briefly tell you well and skil-
fully, and do you ponder it in your mind, that from the same origin
are sprung gods and mortal men. First-of-all the immortals holding
the mansions of Olympus made a golden race of speaking men. [They
indeed were under Cronus, what time he ruled in heaven.] And as
gods they were wont to live, with a life void-of-care, apart from, and
without labours and trouble : nor was wretched old age at all impend-
ing, but, ever the same in hands and feet, did they delight themselves
in festivals out of the reach of all ills : and they died, as if o'ercome by
sleep ; all blessings were theirs ; of-its-own-will the fruitful field would
bare them fruit, much and ample: and they gladly used to reap the
labours of their hands in quietness along with many good things,
being rich in flocks, and dear to the blessed gods. But after that
Earth had covered this generation by the hests of mighty Jove, they
indeed are daemons, kindly, haunting-earth, guardians of mortal men,
who, I ween, watch both the decisions of justice, and harsh deeds,
going-to-and-fro everywhere over the earth, having wrapt themselves
in mist, givers of riches as they are : and this is a kingly function which
they have.

RELIGIOUS IDEAS 29

Afterwards again the dwellers in Olympian mansions formed a
second race of silver, far inferior ; like unto the golden neither in shape
nor mind : but for a hundred years indeed a boy was reared and grew
up beside his wise mother, in her house, being quite childish : but
when one happened to come to age and reached the stature of man-
hood, for but a brief space used they to live, suffering griefs through
their imprudences : for they could not keep off rash insult one from
the other, nor were they willing to worship the gods, nor to sacrifice
at the holy altars of the blessed, as it is right men should in their
abodes. Them indeed afterwards, Jove, son of Cronus, buried in his
wrath, because they gave not due honours to the blessed gods, who
occupy Olympus. Now when earth had ingulfed this race also, they,
beneath the ground, are called blessed mortals, second in rank; but
still honour attends these also.

And yet a third race of speech-gifted men formed father Jove of
brass, not at all like unto the silver, formidable and mighty by reason
of their ashen-spears : whose care was the mournful deeds of Mars,
and insults : neither did they at all eat wheaten food only, but had
stout-spirited hearts of adamant; unapproachable. Now vast force
and hands unvanquished grew from their shoulders upon sturdy limbs.
These had brazen arms, and likewise brazen houses, and with brass
they wrought : for there was not yet dark iron. They indeed subdued
beneath their own hands, entered the squalid abode of chilling Hades,
inglorious : for terrible though they were, black Death seized them,
and they quitted the bright sunlight.

But when earth had covered this race also, again Jove, son of
Cronus, wrought yet another, a fourth, on the many-nourishing
ground, more just and more worthy, a godlike race of hero-men, who
are called by the former age demi-gods over the boundless earth.
And these baneful war, as well as the dire battle-din, destroyed, a part
righting before seven-gated Thebes, in the Cadmean land, for the
flocks of Oedipus, and part also in ships beyond the vast depths of
the sea, when it had led them to Troy for hair-haired Helen's sake.
There indeed the end of death enshrouded them ; but to them Jove,
the son of Cronus, their sire, having given life and settlements apart
from men, made them to dwell at the confines of earth, afar from the
immortals. Among these Cronus rules. And they indeed dwell with
careless spirit in the Isles of the Blest, beside deep-eddying Ocean;
blest heroes, for whom thrice in a year doth the fertile soil bear bloom-
ing fruits as-sweet-as-honey.

30 RELIGIOUS IDEAS

Would that then I had not mingled with the fifth race of men, but
had either died before, or been born afterward. For now in truth is
the iron race, neither will they ever cease by day, nor at all by night,
from toil and wretchedness, corrupt as they are: but the gods will
give them severe cares : yet nevertheless even for these shall good be
mingled with ills. But Jove will destroy this race also of men en-
dowed with speech, as soon as, immediately after having been born,
they become silvery-templed. Nor will sire be like-minded to sons,
nor sons at all to parent, nor guest to host, nor comrade to comrade,
nor will brother be dear, even as it was aforetime, to brother. But
quickly will they dishonour parents growing old, and will blame them,
I ween, addressing them with harsh words, being impious, and una-
ware of the vengeance of the gods ; not to aged parents would these
pay back the price of their nurture, using the right of might : and one
will sack the city of another : nor will there be any favour to the trusty,
nor the just, nor the good, but rather they will honour a man that
doeth evil and is overbearing; and justice and shame will not be in
their hands, and the bad will injure the better man, speaking in per-
verse speeches, and will swear a false oath. But on all wretched mor-
tals envy with-its-tongue-of-malice, exulting-in-ills, will attend with
hateful look. Then also in truth to Olympus from earth with-its-
broad-ways shall Shame and Retribution, having abandoned men, de-
part, when they have clad their fair skin in white raiment, to the tribe
of the immortals : but the baneful griefs shall remain behind, and
against evil there shall be no resource.

Now then will I speak a fable to kings, wise even though they
are. Thus the hawk addressed the nightingale of variegated-throat,
as he carried her in his talons, when he had caught her, very high in
the clouds.

She then, pierced on all sides by his crooked talons, was wailing
piteously, whilst he victoriously addressed his speech to her. "Wretch,
wherefore criest thou? 'tis a much stronger that holds thee. Thou
wilt go that way by which I may lead thee, songstress though thou
art: and my supper, if I choose, I shall make, or shall let go. But
senseless is he who chooses to contend against them that are stronger,
and he is robbed of victory, and suffers griefs in addition to indig-
nities."

So spake the fleet-flying hawk, broad-pinioned bird. But do thou,
Perses, hear the right, nor help-on wrong: for wrong is both ill to a
poor mortal, nor in truth can a well-to-do man easily bear it, for he is

RELIGIOUS IDEAS 31

also weighed down by it, having fallen upon the penalties of crime ;
the better way is to arrive at what is right in the contrary path ; and
justice surmounts injury, when it has reached to the end. When he
has suffered, the senseless man learns this. For along with crooked
judgments straight runs the avenger of perjury ; and a resistless course
is that of Justice, though she be dragged whithersoever bribe-swal-
lowing men may lead her, and with perverse judgments decide upon
the existing rights. And she follows lamenting city and settlements
of peoples, clad in mist, bringing ill on men, who shall have driven
her out, and dispense not a fair decision. But whoso give fair judg-
ments to strangers and to citizens, and do not overstep aught of jus-
tice, for these a city blooms, and her people flourish within her : peace
rears her young men through the land, nor even to them doth wide-
seeing Jove ordain troublous war: nor ever doth famine, nor ruin,
company with men who judge the right, but in festivals they enjoy
the fruit of carefully-tended works. For them bears Earth much sub-
stance : on the mountains the oak at its top indeed yields acorns, and
midway bees : the wooly sheep are weighed down with fleeces ; women
bear children like unto their sires : in blessings they flourish still :
nor ever travel they on board ship ; but the fertile field yields its in-
crease. But they, to whom evil, wrong, and hard deeds are a care, to
them wide-seeing Jove, the son of Cronus, destines punishment. Oft
hath even a whole city reaped the evil fruit of a bad man, who sins and
puts in practice deeds of infatuation.

On them then from heaven the son of Cronus is wont to bring
great calamity, famine and pestilence at the same time : so the peoples
waste away. Neither do the women bear children : and houses come
to nought, by the counsels of Olympian Jove; and at other times
again the son of Cronus either destroys their wide army, or he lays
low their walls, or in the deep he punishes their ships.

Now do ye too, ye judges, ponder likewise yourselves this ven-
geance: for being among men and nigh unto them, the immortals
observe as many as with perverse judgments wear-and-waste each
other, disregarding the punishment of the gods. For on the many-
nurturing earth are thrice ten thousand immortals, Jove's watchers
over mortal men ; who, I ween, watch both just judgments and daring
acts, clad in misty-'darkness, and haunting everywhere over the earth.
And Jove's virgin daughter, Justice, besides, is a watcher, illustrious
and venerable, with the gods who occupy Olympus. Yes, and when-
ever any one wrongs her by perversely railing at her, forthwith taking

32 RELIGIOUS IDEAS

her seat beside Jove, son of Cronus, her sire, she speaks of the unjust
mind of mortals, that so the people may atone for the infatuations of
kings, who, with pernicious intents, turn her the wrong way by speak-
ing judgments perversely. Heeding these things, ye judges, swallow-
ers-of-the-bribe, make straight your sentiments, and entirely forget
crooked judgments. For himself doth a man work evil, in working
evils for another, and the evil counsel is worst to him that hath devised
it. Jove's eye, having seen all things, and observed all things, also
regards these things, if he so please, nor does it escape him, of what
nature, in truth, is this justice, which the city encloses within. Now
might in truth neither I myself, nor my son, be just among men, since
to be a just man is an evil, if so be that the more unjust man is to
have the stronger justice. But this I hope that Jove, delighting in
thunders, will not yet bring about.

Yet, O Perses, do thou ponder these things in thine heart, and
heed justice in sooth, and forget violence entirely. For this law hath
the son of Cronus ordained for men, for fishes indeed and beasts, and
winged fowls to eat each other, since justice is not among them : but
to men hath he given justice, which is far best. For if a man choose
to know and speak out what is just, to him also wide-seeing Jove
gives felicity ; but whoso in his testimony, wilfully having sworn a false
oath, shall have lied, and by it having marred justice, shall have gone
astray incurably, of him then the race is left more obscure for the
future. Of a man, however, of-true-oath, the generation is more ex-
cellent thereafter.

Now will I speak to thee with good intent, thou exceeding foolish
Perses. Badness, look you, you may choose easily in a heap : level is
the path, and right near it dwells. But before virtue the immortal
gods have set exertion : and long and steep and rugged at the first is
the way to it, but when one shall have reached the summit, then truly
it is easy, difficult though it be before.

This man, indeed, is far-best, who shall have understood every-
thing for himself, after having devised what may be best afterward
and unto the end : and good again is he likewise who shall have com-
plied with one advising him well : but whoso neither himself hath un-
derstanding, nor when he hears another, lays it to heart, he on the
other hand is a worthless man. Do thou then, ever mindful of my
precept, work-on, Perses, of stock divine, that so famine may hate,
and fair-chapleted Demeter love thee, august as she is, and fill thy
garner with substance. For famine, look you, is ever the sluggard's
companion.

RELIGIOUS IDEAS 33

And with him gods and men are indignant, who lives a sluggard's
life, like in temper to stingless drones, which lazily consume the labour
of bees, by devouring it : but to thee let it be a pleasure to set in order
seemly works, that so thy garners may be full of seasonable substance.
From works men become both rich-in-flocks and wealthy: by work-
ing too, thou wilt be dearer far to immortals and to mortals. For
greatly do they hate sluggards. Now work is no disgrace, but sloth
is a disgrace. And if thou shouldst work, quickly will the sluggard
envy thee growing rich : for esteem and glory accompany wealth. So
to a sensible man, as thou wert, to labour is best, if having turned a
witless mind from the possessions of others towards work, thou
wouldst study thy subsistence, as I recommend thee.

But a false shame possesses a needy man, shame which greatly
hurts or helps men. Shame, look you, is beside wretchedness, but
confidence beside wealth ; and possessions not gotten-by-plunder, but
given-by-the-gods, are far best. For if any one even with his hands
shall have taken great wealth by violence, or if he for his part shall
have plundered it by his tongue, even as often happens, as soon as in
truth gain hath deceived the minds of men, and shamelessness comes
suddenly on shame, then, I say, easily do the gcds darken his name :
the family of such a man is minished, and but for a brief space doth
his wealth accompany him.

And alike he who shall have done evil to suppliant and to guest,
and he who mounts the couch of his kinsman, for stealthy union with
his wife, doing acts unseemly; and whoso through the senselessness
of any one wrongs orphan children, and whoso reproaches an aged
parent on the threshold of wretched age, assailing him with severe
words ; against such an one, I say in truth, Jove himself is wroth, and
at the last, in requital for wrong deeds, lays on him a bitter penalty.
Then keep thou wholly a witless mind from these deeds. But after
thy power do sacrifice to the immortal gods, holily and purely, and
moreover sleek thighs of victims, and at other times propitiate them
with libations, and incense, both when you go to rest, and when the
holy light shall have risen: that so to thee they may entertain a pro-
pitious heart and spirit, that thou mayest buy the land of others, not
others thine. Invite the man that loves thee to a feast, but let alone
thine enemy : and especially invite him that dwelleth near thee : for if,
mark you, anything strange shall have happened at home, neighbours
are wont to come ungirt, but kinsfolk gird themselves first. A bad

34 RELIGIOUS IDEAS

neighbour is as great a misfortune as a good one is a great blessing.
Who gains a worthy neighbour, hath truly gained a meed of honour:
neither would an ox perish, if there were not a bad neighbour. Duly
measure when thou borrowest from a neighbour, and duly repay, in
the very measure, and better still, if thou canst, that so when in want
thou mayest find that which may be relied on in future.

Gain not base gains: base gains are equal to losses. Love him
that loves thee ; and be nigh him that attaches himself to thee : and give
to him who may have given : give not to him that hath not given. To
a giver on the one hand some have given : but to the withholder none
give. A gift is good : but plunder evil, — a dealer of death. For what-
soever man shall have given willingly, he too would give much. He
exults in his gift, and is pleased in his spirit. But whoso shall have
seized, in compliance with his shamelessness, even though it be but a
little, yet that little curdles his heart's blood. For if thou shouldst lay
up even a little upon a little, and shouldst do this often, soon would
even this become great. He who brings, in addition to what is in
store, this man shall escape dark hunger : nor does that at least which
is laid up in the house distress a man. Better is it that it should be at
home, since that which is without is attended with loss. Tis good to
take from what is at hand, but a woe to the spirit to want of that which
is far from you: which truths I bid thee ponder. At the beginning
too of the cask, and at the end, take thy fill, but spare it in the middle :
for sparingness is too late at the bottom. Let the recompence fixed for
a friend be sufficient, and, as in sport, with a brother even call in wit-
nesses : for trust, I wot, look you, as well as mistrusts, has ruined men.
Nor let a woman with sweeping train beguile thy mind, winningly
coaxing, and seeking after thy dwelling : for who trusts a woman, that
man, I wot, trusts knaves. And let there be one only-son to tend his
father's house : for so shall wealth increase in the dwelling. But if old,
you may die and leave another son. For easily to more might Jove
provide vast wealth. For of many greater is the care, and greater the
gain. Now if thy spirit desires wealth in thy mind, thus do, and
moreover do work upon work.

TRANSLATION OF J. BANKS.

IDEAS OF

ODYSSEUS, HIS DESCENT INTO HEL>

WITH THE GHOSTS OF THE DECEA H

'Now WHEN we had gone down to the ship and tr> tlw sea, fir>t
of all we drew the ship unto the fair sn.lt water, and placed rhe mast
and sails in the black ship, and took fh->9<? «heep and put them there
in, and ourselves 100 climbed «:» lx»H, sorrowing, and shedding big
tear--.. And in th«* walrr t»t our »j.ir*-pr\>wcd ship she sent a favour

,-. Kindly escort, — even Circe of the
i trowes. a dread god<8ys19Pft3Sifl speech. And we set in

• all the f«w^tMW«»>W)atoph^^lii^ ^afl$ s*f"tt¥- 3&\k ; and th<
wind and the helmsman guided our barque. -And all day long her
sails were stretched in her seafaring; and the sun sank and all the

rr t . »T . r TT r> t t ' r ' J i" \ 4 1 ' / -^

There is the lansbiqew! rtiiteitit^aaftfe tte ituifMHieioifli^x^W.1 iMd airioBhosliO
and cloud, and never does the shining sun look down on them with
rays, neither when he climbs tip the starr\ heavens, nor wh?n
'•"rns earthward froti? the firmament, but deadly nighf •
read over miserable mortals. Thither we came and ^M\ »'»•*
ashore and took out the sheep ; but for oy
ilong the stream <•>'' ' lr,«anu<i. ^»t?
: ' ••-

id. fyst whh rms4 «nd riitrtaficr witli sweet w»:; . ami i
••I time with water. And I sprinkled white meal ihcrf>.
entreated with many prayers the strengthless heads of the
promised that on my return to Tthaca I would offer m v-

-n heifer, the best T had. and fill the pvrr \n»b
apart unto Teiresias alone sacrifice a black ram > »n >p«.-»t, the
my flock. Rut •.%•!': r. ' • ••' • •*• •-•• ••! • * :• v- ;ii the dead

DISCOBOLUS

After Myron. In the Palazzo Lancelutti, Rome

MYRON lived about 480-430 B. C. He was born at Eleuthcral, on the
borders of Attica, and studied under Ageladas of Argos. He worked
mostly in bronzr. and his statues were physically realistic. The
Discobolus and Alarsyas are extant in good ancient copies.

35

IDEAS OF THE FUTURE LIFE

ODYSSEUS, HIS DESCENT INTO HELL, AND DISCOURSES
WITH THE GHOSTS OF THE DECEASED HEROES

'Now WHEN we had gone down to the ship and to the sea, first
of all we drew the ship unto the fair salt water, and placed the mast
and sails in the black ship, and took those sheep and put them there-
in, and ourselves too climbed on board, sorrowing, and shedding big
tears. And in the wake of our dark-prowed ship she sent a favour-
ing wind that filled the sails, a kindly escort, — even Circe of the
braided tresses, a dread goddess of human speech. And we set in
order all the gear throughout the ship and sat us down; and the
wind and the helmsman guided our barque. And all day long her
sails were stretched in her seafaring; and the sun sank and all the
ways were darkened.

'She came to the limits of the world, to the deepflowing Oceanus.
There is the land and the city of the Cimmerians, shrouded in mist
and cloud, and never does the shining sun look down on them with
his rays, neither when he climbs up the starry heavens, nor when
again he turns earthward from the firmament, but deadly night is
outspread over miserable mortals. Thither we came and ran the ship
ashore and took out the sheep; but for our part we held on our
way along the stream of Oceanus, till we came to the place which
Circe had declared to us.

'There Perimedes and Eurylochus held the victims, but I drew
my sharp sword from my thigh, and dug a pit, as it were a cubit in
length and breadth, and about it poured a drink-offering to all the
dead, first with mead and thereafter with sweet wine, and for the
third time with water. And I sprinkled white meal thereon, and
entreated with many prayers the strengthless heads of the dead, and
promised that on my return to Ithaca I would offer in my halls a
barren heifer, the best I had, and fill the pyre with treasure, and
apart unto Teiresias alone sacrifice a black ram without spot, the
fairest of my flock. But when I had besought the tribes of the dead

So RELIGIOUS IDEAS

with vows and prayers, I took the sheep and cut their throats over
the trench, and the dark blood flowed forth, and lo, the spirits of
the dead that be departed gathered them from out of Erebus. Brides
and youths unwed, and old men of many and evil days, and tender
maiden^ with grief yet fresh at heart ; and many there were, wounded
with bronze-shod spears, men slain in fight with their bloody mail
about them. And these many ghosts flocked together from every side
about the trench with a wondrous cry, and pale fear gat hold on me.
Then did I speak to my company and command them to flay the
sheep that lay slain by the pitiless sword, and to consume them with
fire, and to make prayer to the gods, to mighty Hades and to dread
Persephone, and myself I drew the sharp sword from my thigh and
sat there, suffering not the strengthless heads of the dead to draw
night to the blood, ere I had word of Teiresias.

'And first came the soul of Elpenor, my companion, that had not
yet been buried beneath the wide-wayed earth ; for we left the corpse
behind us in the hall of Circe, unwept and unburied, seeing that an-
other task was instant on us. At the sight of him I wept and had
compassion on him, and uttering my voice spake to him winged
words: "Elpenor, how hast thou come beneath the darkness and
the shadow ? Thou hast come fleeter on foot than I in my black ship."

'So spake I, and with a moan he answered me, saying: "Son of
Laertes, of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices, an evil doom
of some god was my bane and wine out of measure. When I laid
me down on the house-top of Circe I minded me not to descend again
by the way of the tall ladder, but fell right down from the roof, and
my neck was broken off from the bones of the spine, and my spirit
went down to the house of Hades. And now I pray thee in the name
of those whom we left, who are no more with us, thy wife, and thy
sire who cherished thee when as yet thou wert a little one, and Tele-
machus, whom thou didst leave in thy halls alone ; forasmuch as I
know that on thy way hence from out the dwelling of Hades, thou
wilt stay thy well-wrought ship at the isle Aeaean, even then, my
lord, I charge thee to think on me. Leave me not unwept and un-
buried as thou goest hence, nor turn thy back upon me, lest haply I
bring on thee the anger of the gods. Nay, burn me there with mine
armour, all that is mine, and pile me a barrow on the shore of the
grey sea, the grave of a luckless man, that even men unborn may
hear my story. Fulfill me this and plant upon the barrow mine oar,
wherewith I rowed in the days of my life, while yet I was among my

RELIGIOUS IDEAS 37

fellows."

'Even so he spake, and I answered him saying: "All this, luck-
less man, will I perform for thee and do."

'Even so we twain were sitting holding sad discourse, I on the
one side, stretching forth my sword over the blood, while on the other
side the ghost of my friend told all his tale.

'Anon came up the soul of my mother dead, Anticleia, the daugh-
ter of Autolycus the great-hearted, whom I left alive when I departed
for sacred Ilios. At the sight of her I wept, and was moved with
compassion, yet even so, for all my sore grief, I suffered her not to
draw nigh to the blood, ere I had word of Teiresias.

'Anon came the soul of Theban Teiresias, with a golden sceptre
in his hand, and he knew me and spake unto me: "Son of Laertes,
of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices, what seekest thou
now, wretched man, wherefore hast thou left the sunlight and come
hither to behold the dead and a land desolate of joy? Nay, hold off
from the ditch and draw back thy sharp sword, that I may drink of
the blood and tell thee sooth."

'So spake he and I put up my silver-studded sword into the
sheath, and when he had drunk the dark blood, even then did the
noble seer speak untc me, saying: "Thou art asking of thy sweet
returning, great Odysseus, but that will the god make hard for thee;
for methinks thou shalt not pass unheeded by the Shaker of the
Earth, who hath laid up wrath in his heart against thee, for rage at
the blinding of his dear son. Yet even so, through many troubles,
ye may come home, if thou wilt restrain thy spirit and the spirit of
thy men so soon as thou shalt bring thy well-wrought ship nigh to
the isle Thrinacia, fleeing the sea of violet blue, when ye find the
herds of Helios grazing and his brave flocks, of Helios who over-
seeth all and overheareth all things. If thou doest these no hurt,
being heedful of thy return, so may ye yet reach Ithaca, albeit in evil
case. But if thou hurtest them, I foreshow ruin for thy ship and
for thy men, and even though thou shalt thyself escape, late shalt
thou return in evil plight, with the loss of all thy company, on board
the ship of strangers, and thou shalt find sorrows in thy house, even
proud men that devour thy living, while they woo thy godlike wife
and offer the gifts of wooing. Yet I tell thee, on thy coming thou
shalt avenge their violence. But when thou hast slain the wooers in
thy halls, whether by guile, or openly with the edge of the sword,
thereafter go thy way, taking with thee a shapen oar, till thou shalt

38 RELIGIOUS IDEAS

come to such men as know not the sea, neither eat meat savoured with
salt; yea, nor have they knowledge of ships of purple cheek, nor
shapen oars .Avhich serve for wings to ships. And I will give thee
a most manifest token, which cannot escape thee. In the day when
another wayfarer shall meet thee and say that thou hast a winnowing
fan on thy stout shoulder, even then make fast thy shapen oar in
the earth and do goodly sacrifice to the lord Poseidon, even with a
ram and a bull and a boar, the mate of swine, and depart for home
and offer holy hecatombs to the deathless gods that keep the wide
heaven, to each in order due. And from the sea shall thine own
death come, the gentlest death that may be, which shall end thee fore-
done with smooth old age, and the folk shall dwell happily around
thee. This that I say is sooth."

'So spake he, and I answered him, saying: "Teiresias, all these
threads, methinks, the gods themselves have spun. But come, declare
me this and plainly tell me all. I see here the spirit of my mother
dead; lo, she sits in silence near the blood, nor deigns to look her
son in the face nor speak to him! Tell me, prince, how may she
know me again that I am he?"

'So spake I, and anon he answered me, and said: "I will tell
thee an easy saying, and will put it in thy heart. Whomsoever of
the dead that be departed thou shalt suffer to draw nigh to the blood,
he shall tell thee sooth ; but if thou shalt grudge any, that one shall
go to his own place again." Therewith the spirit of the prince Teire-
sias went back within the house of Hades, when he had told all his
oracles. But I abode there steadfastly, till my mother drew nigh and
drank the dark blood; and at once she knew me, and bewailing
herself spake to me winged words :

' "Dear child, how didst thou come beneath the darkness and the
shadow, thou that art a living man? Grievous is the sight of these
things to the living, for between us and you are great rivers and
dreadful streams; first, Oceanus, which can no wise be crossed on
foot, but only if one have a well-wrought ship. Art thou but now
come hither with thy ship and thy company in thy long wanderings
from Troy? and hast thou not yet reached Ithaca, nor seen thy wife
in thy halls?"

'Even so she spake, and I answered her, and said : "O my mother,
necessity was on me to come down to the house of Hades to seek to
the spirit of Theban Teiresias. For not yet have I drawn near to
the Achaean shore, nor yet have I set foot on mine own country,

RELIGIOUS IDEAS 39

but have been wandering evermore in affliction, from the day that
first I went with goodly Agamemnon to Ilios of the fair steeds, to do
battle with the Trojans. But come, declare me this and plainly tell
it all. What doom overcame thee of death that lays men at their
length? Was it a slow disease, or did Artemis the archer slay thee
with the visitation of her gentle shafts? And tell me of my father
and my son, that I left behind me; doth my honour yet abide with
them, or hath another already taken it, while they say that I shall
come home no more? And tell me of my wedded wife, of her coun-
sel and her purpose, doth she abide with her son and keep all secure,
or hath she already wedded the best of the Achaeans?"

'Even so I spake, and anon my lady mother answered me : ''Yea
verily, she abideth with steadfast spirit in thy halls ; and wearily for
her the nights wane always and the days in shedding of tears. But
the fair honour that is thine no man hath yet taken ; but Telemachus
sits at peace on his demesne, and feasts at equal banquets, whereof
it is meet that a judge partake, for all men bid him to their house.
And thy father abides there in the field, and goes not down to the
town, nor lies he on bedding or rags or shining blankets, but all the
winter he sleeps, where sleep the thralls in the house, in the ashes
by the fire, and is clad in sorry raiment. But when the summer
comes and the rich harvest-tide, his beds of fallen leaves are strewn
lowly all about the knoll of his vineyard plot. There he lies sorrow-
ing and nurses his mighty grief, for long desire of thy return, and
old age withal comes heavy upon him. Yea and even so did I too
perish and meet my doom. It was not the archer goddess of the
keen sight, who slew me in my halls with the visitation of her gentle
shafts, nor did any sickness come upon me, such as chiefly with a sad
wasting draws the spirit from the limbs ; nay, it was my sore long-
ing for thee, and for thy counsels, great Odysseus, and for thy lov-
ing-kindness, that reft me of sweet life."

'So spake she, and I mused in my heart and would fain have
embraced the spirit of my mother dead. Thrice I sprang towards
her, and was minded to embrace her; thrice she flitted from my
hands as a shadow or even as a dream, and grief waxed ever the
sharper at my heart. And uttering my voice I spake to her winged
words :

' "Mother mine, wherefore dost thou not abide me who am eager
to clasp thee, that even in Hades we twain may cast our arms each
about the other, and have our fill of chill lament? Is this but a

40 RELIGIOQS IDEAS

phantom that the high goddess Persephone hath sent me, to the end

that I may groan for more exceeding sorrow?"

'So spake I, and my lady mother answered me anon : "Ah me, my
child, of all men most ill-fated, Persephone, the daughter of Zeus,
doth in no wise deceive thee, but even on this wise it is with mortals
when they die. For the sinews no more bind together the flesh and
the bones, but the great force of burning fire, abolishes these, so soon
as the life hath left the white bones, and the spirit like a dream flies
forth and hovers near. But haste with all thine heart toward the
sunlight, and mark all this, that even hereafter thou mayest tell it
to thy wife."

'Thus we twain held discourse together ; and lo, the women came
up, for the high goddess Persephone sent them forth, all they that
had been the wives and daughters of mighty men. And they gath-
ered and flocked about the black blood, and I took counsel how I
might question them each one. And this was the counsel that showed
best in my sight. I drew my long hanger from my stalwart thigh,
and suffered them not all at one time to drink of the dark blood.
So they drew nigh one by one, and each declared her lineage, and I
made question of all..

'Then verily did I first see Tyro, sprung of a noble sire, who
said that she was the child of noble Salmoneus, and declared herself
the wife of Cretheus, son of Aeolus. She loved a river, the divine
Enipeus, far the fairest of the floods that run upon the earth, and
she would resort to the fair streams of Enipeus. And it came to
pass that the girdler of the world, the Earth-shaker, put on the shape
of the god, and lay by the lady at the mouths of the whirling stream.
Then the dark wave stood around them like a hill-side bowed, and
hid the god and the mortal woman. And he undid her maiden girdle,
and shed a slumber over her. Now when the god had done the
work of love, he clasped her hand and spake and hailed her:

' "Woman, be glad in our love, and when the year comes round
thou shalt give birth to glorious children, — for not weak are the em-
braces of the gods, — and do thou keep and cherish them. And now
go home and hold thy peace, and tell it not : but behold, I am Posei-
don, shaker of the earth."

'Therewith he plunged beneath the heaving deep. And she con-
ceived and bare Pelias and Neleus, who both grew to be mighty men,
servants of Zeus. Pelias dwelt in wide lolcos, and was rich in flocks ;
and that other abode in sandy Pylos. And the queen of women bare

RELIGIOUS IDEAS 41

yet other sons to Cretheus, even Aeson and Pheres and Amythaon,
whose joy was in chariots.

'And after her I saw Antiope, daughter of Asopus, and her boast
was that she had slept even in the arms of Zeus, and she bare two sons,
Amphion and Zethus, who founded first the place of seven-gated The-
bes, and they made of it a fenced city, for they might not dwell in
spacious Thebes unfenced, for all their valiancy.

'Next to her I saw Alcmene, wife of Amphitryon, who lay in the
arms of mighty Zeus, and bare Heracles of the lion-heart, steadfast
in the fight. And I saw Megara, daughter of Creon, haughty of
heart, whom the strong and tireless son of Amphitryon had to wife.

'And I saw the mother of Oedipodes, fair Epicaste, who wrought
a dread deed unwittingly, being wedded to her own son, and he that
had slain his own father wedded her, and straightway the gods made
these things known to men. Yet he abode in pain in pleasant Thebes,
ruling the Cadmaeans, by reason of the deadly counsels of the gods.
But she went down to the house of Hades, the mighty warder; yea,
she tied a noose from the high beam aloft, being fast holden in
sorrow; while for him she left pains behind full many, even all that
the Avengers of a mother bring to pass.

'And I saw lovely Chloris, whom Neleus wedded on a time for
her beauty, and brought gifts of wooing past number. She was the
youngest daughter of Amphion, son of lasus, who once ruled mightily
in Minyan Orchomenus. And she was queen of Pylos, and bare
glorious children to her lord, Nestor and Chromius, and princely Per-
iclymenus, and stately Pero too, the wonder of all men. All that
dwelt around were her wooers ; but Neleus would not give her, save
to him who should drive off from Phylace the kine of mighty Iphicles,
with shambling gait and broad of brow, hard cattle to drive. And
none but the noble seer took in hand to drive them; but a grievous
fate from the gods fettered him, even hard bonds and the herdsmen
of the wild. But when at length the months and days were being
fulfilled, as the year returned upon his course, and the seasons came
round, then did mighty Iphicles set him free, when he had spoken
out all the oracles ; and herein was the counsel of Zeus being accom-
plished.

'And I saw Lede, the famous bed-fellow of Tyndareus who bare
to Tyndareus two sons, hardy of heart, Castor tamer of steeds, and
Polydeuces the boxer. These twain yet live, but the quickening earth
is over them ; and even in the nether world they have honour at the

V 2-3

42 RELIGIOUS IDEAS

hand of Zeus. And they possess their life in turn, living one day

and dying the next, and they have gotten worship even as the gods.

'And after her I beheld Iphimedeia, bed-fellow of Aloeus, who
said that she had lain with Poseidon, and she bare children twain,
but short of life were they, godlike Otus and far-famed Ephialtes.
Now these were the tallest men that earth, the graingiver, ever reared,
and far the goodliest after the renowned Orion. At nine seasons old
they were of breadth nine cubits, and nine fathoms in height. They
it was who threatened to raise even against the immortals in Olympus
the din of stormy wear. They strove to pile Ossa on Olympus, and
on Ossa Pelion with the trembling forest leaves, that there might be
a pathway to the sky. Yea, and they would have accomplished it,
had they reached the full measure of manhood. But the son of Zeus,
whom Leto of the fair locks bare, destroyed the twain, ere the down
had bloomed beneath their temples, and darkened their chins with the
blossom of youth.

'And Phaedra and Procris I saw, and fair Ariadne, the daughter
of wizard Minos, whom Theseus on a time was bearing from Crete
to the hill of sacred Athens, yet had he no joy of her; for Artemis
slew her ere that in sea-girt Dia, by reason of the witness of Dionysus.

'And Maera and Clymene I saw, and hateful Efiphyle, who took
fine gold for the price of her dear lord's life. But I cannot tell or
name all the wives and daughters of the heroes that I saw ; ere that,
the immortal night would wane. Nay, it is even now time to sleep,
whether I go to the swift ship to my company or abide here : and for
my convoy you and the gods will care.'

So spake he, and dead silence fell on all, and they were spell-
bound throughout the shadowy halls. Then Arete of the white arms
first spake among them : 'Phaeacians, what think you of this man
for comeliness and stature, and within for wisdom of heart? More-
over he is my guest, though every one of you hath his share in this
honour. Wherefore haste not to send him hence, and stint not these
your gifts for one that stands in such sore need of them ; for ye have
much treasure stored in your halls by the grace of the gods.'

Then too spake among them the old man, lord Echeneus, that
was an elder among the Phaeacians: 'Friends, behold, the speech
of our wise queen is not wide of the mark, nor far from our deeming,
so hearken ye thereto. But on Alcinous here both word and work
depend.'

Then Alcinous made answer, and spake unto him: 'Yea, the

RELIGIOUS IDEAS 43

word that she hath spoken shall hold, if indeed I am yet to live and
bear rule among the Phaeacians, masters of the oar. Howbeit let the
stranger, for all his craving to return, nevertheless endure to abide
until the morrow, till I make up the full measure of the gift; and
men shall care for his convoy, all men, but I in chief, for mine is the
lordship in the land.'

And Odysseus of many counsels answered him, saying : 'My lord
Alcinous, most notable of all the people, if ye bade me tarry here even
for a year, and would speed my convoy and give me splendid gifts,
even that I would choose; and better would it be for me to come
with a fuller hand to mine own dear country, so should I get more
love and worship in the eyes of all men, whoso should see me after
I was returned to Ithaca.'

And Alcinous answered h-im, saying: 'Odysseus, in no wise do
we deem thee, we that look on thee, to be a knave or a cheat, even
as the dark earth rears many such broadcast, fashioning lies whence
none can even see his way therein. But beauty crowns thy words,
and wisdom is within thee; and thy tale, as when a minstrel sings,
thou hast told with skill, the weary woes of all the Argives and of
thine own self. But come, declare me this and plainly tell it all.
Didst thou see any of thy godlike company who went up at the same
time with thee to Ilios and there met their doom? Behold, the night
is of great length, unspeakable, and the time for sleep in the hall is
not yet; tell me therefore of those wondrous deeds. I could abide
even till the bright dawn, so long as thou couldst endure to rehearse
me these woes of thine in the hall.'

And Odysseus of many counsels answered him, saying: 'My
lord Alcinous, most notable of all the people, there is a time for
many words and there is a time for sleep. But if thou art eager
still to listen, I would not for my part grudge to tell thee of other
things more pitiful still, even the woes of my comrades, those that
perished afterward, for they had escaped with their lives from the
dread war-cry of the Trojans, but perished in returning by the will
of an evil woman.

'Now when holy Persephone had scattered this way and that
the spirits of the women folk, thereafter came to the soul of Aga-
memnon, son of Atreus, sorrowing; and round him others were
gathered, the ghosts of them who had died with him in the house
of Aegisthus and met their doom. And he knew me straightway
when he had drunk the dark blood, yea, and he wept aloud, and shed

44 RELIGIOUS IDEAS

big tears as he stretched forth his hands in his longing to reach me.
But it might not be, for he had now no steadfast strength nor power
at all to move, such as was aforetime in his supple limbs.

'At the sight of him I wept and was moved with compassion,
and uttering my voice, spake to him winged words : "Most renowned
son of Atreus, Agamemnon, king of men, say what doom overcame
thee of death that lays men at their length? Did Poseidon smite
thee in thy ships, raising the dolorous blast of contrary winds, or
did unfriendly men do thee hurt upon the land, whilst thou wert
cutting oft* their oxen and fair flocks of sheep, or fighting to win a
city and the women thereof?"

'So spake I, and straightway he answered, and said unto me:
"Son of Laertes, of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices, it
was not Poseidon that smote me in my ships, and raised the dolorous
blast of contrary winds, nor did unfriendly men do me hurt upon
the land, but Aegisthus it was that wrought me death and doom and
slew me, with the aid of my accursed wife, as one slays an ox at the
stall, after he had bidden me to his house, and entertained me at a
feast. Even so I died by a death most pitiful, and round me my
company likewise were slain without ceasing, like swine with glit-
tering tusks which are slaughtered in the house of a rich and mighty
man, whether at a wedding banquet or a joint-feast or a rich clan-
drinking. Ere now hast thou been at the slaying of many a man,
killed in single fight, or in strong battle, yet thou wouldst have sor-
rowed the most at this sight, how we lay in the hall round the mix-
ing-bowl and the laden boards, and the floor all ran with blood. And
most pitiful of all that I heard was the voice of the daughter of
Priam, of Cassandra, whom hard by me the crafty Clytemnestra
slew. Then I strove to raise my hands as I was dying upon the
sword, but to earth they fell. And that shameless one turned her
back upon me, and had not the heart to draw down my eyelids with
her fingers nor to close my mouth. So surely is there nought more
terrible and shameless than a woman who imagines such evil in her
heart, even as she too planned a foul deed, fashioning death for her
gentle lord. Verily I had thought to come home most welcome to
my children and my thralls; but she, out of the depth of her evil
knowledge, hath shed shame on herself and on all womankind, which
shall be for ever, even on the upright.'

'Even so he spake, but I answered him, saying : "Lo* now, in
very sooth, hath Zeus of the far-borne voice wreaked wondrous

RELIGIOUS IDEAS 45

hatred on the seed of Atreus through the counsels of woman from
of old. For Helen's sake so many of us perished, and now Clytem-
nestra hath practised treason against thee, while yet thou wast afar
off."

'Even so I spake, and anon he answered me, saying: "Where-
fore do thou too, never henceforth be soft even to thy wife, neither
show her all the counsel that thou knowest, but a part declare and
let part be hid. Yet shalt not thou, Odysseus, find death at the hand
of thy wife, for she is very discreet and prudent in all her ways,
the wise Penelope, daughter of Icarius. Verily we left her a bride
new wed when we went to the war, and a child was at her breast,
who now, methinks, sits in the ranks of men, happy in his lot, for
his dear father shall behold him on his coming, and he shall embrace
his sire as is meet. But as for my wife, she suffered me not so much
as to have my fill of gazing on my son; ere that she slew me, even
her lord. And yet another thing will I tell thee, and do thou ponder
it in thy heart. Put thy ship to land in secret, and not openly, on
the shore of thy dear country ; for there is no more faith in woman.
But come, declare me this and plainly tell it all, if haply ye hear of
my son as yet living, either, it may be, in Orchomenus or in sandy
Pylos, or perhaps with Menelaus in wide Sparta, for goodly Orestes
hath not yet perished on the earth."

'Even so he spake, but I answered him, saying : "Son of Atreus,
wherefore dost thou ask me straitly of these things? Nay I know
not at all, whether he be alive or dead; it is ill to speak words light
as wind."

'Thus we twain stood sorrowing, holding sad discourse, while the
big tears fell fast : and therewithal came the soul of Achilles, son of
Peleus, and of Patroclus and of noble Antilochus and of Aias, who
in face and form was goodliest of all the Danaans, after the noble
son of Peleus. And the spirit of the son of Aeacus, fleet of foot,
knew me again, and making lament spake to me winged words:

1 "Son of Laertes, of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices,
man overbold, what new deed and hardier than this wilt thou devise
in thy heart? How durst thou come down to the house of Hades,
where dwell the senseless dead, the phantoms of men outworn?"

'So he spake, but I answered him: "Achilles, son of Peleus,
mightiest far of the Achaeans, I am come hither to seek to Teiresias,
if he may tell me any counsel, how I may come to rugged Ithaca.
For not yet have I come nigh the Achaean land, nor set foot on mine

46 RELIGIOUS IDEAS

own soil, but am still in evil case; while as for thee, Achilles, none

other than thou wast heretofore the most blessed of men, nor shall

any be hereafter. For of old in the days of thy life, we Argives gave

thee one honour with the gods, and now thou art a great prince here

among the dead. Wherefore let not thy death be any grief to thee,

Achilles."

'Even so I spake, and he straightway answered me, and said:
"Nay, speak not comfortably to me of death, oh great Odysseus.
Rather would I live on ground as the hireling of another, with a
landless man who had no great livelihood, than bear sway among all
the dead that be departed. But come, tell me tidings of that lordly
son of mine — did he follow to the war to be a leader or not? And
tell me of noble Peleus, if thou hast heard aught, — is he yet held in
worship among the Myrmidons, or do they dishonour him from Hellas
to Phthia, for that old age binds him hand and foot? For I am no
longer his champion under the sun, so mighty a man as once I was,
when in wide Troy I slew the best of the host, and succoured the
Argives. Ah ! could I but come for an hour to my father's house as
then I was, so would I make my might and hands invincible, to be
hateful to many an one of those who do him despite and keep him
from his honour."

'Even so he spake, but I answered him saying: "As for noble
Peleus, verily I have heard nought of him; but concerning thy dear
son Neoptolemus, I will tell thee all the truth, according to thy
word. It was I that led him up out of Scyros in my good hollow
ship, in the wake of the goodly-greaved Achaeans. Now oft as we
took counsel around Troy town, he was ever the first to speak, and
no word missed the mark ; the godlike Nestor and I alone surpassed
him. But whensoever we Achaeans did battle on the plain of Troy,
he never tarried behind in the throng or the press of men, but ran
out far before us all, yielding to none in that might of his. And
many men he slew in warfare dread; but I could not tell of all or
name their names, even all the host he slew in succouring the Argives,
save only how he smote with the sword that son of Telephus, the
hero Eurpylus, and many Ceteians of his company were slain around
him, by reason of a woman's bribe. He truly was the comeliest man
that ever I saw, next to goodly Memnon. And again when we, the
best of the Argives, were about to go down into the horse which
Epetis wrought, and the charge of all was laid on me, both to open
the door of our good ambush and to shut the same, then did the

RELIGIOUS IDEAS 47

other princes and counsellors of the Danaans wipe away the tears,
and the limbs of each one trembled beneath him, but never once did
I see thy son's fair face wax pale, nor did he wipe the tears from
his cheeks: but he besought me often to let him go forth from the
horse, and kept handling his sword-hilt, and his heavy bronze-shod
spear, and he was set on mischief against the Trojans. But after
we had sacked the steep city of Priam, he embarked unscathed with
his share of the spoil, and with a noble prize; he was not smitten
with the sharp spear, and got no wound in close fight: and many
such chances there be in war, for Ares rageth confusedly."

'So I spake, and the spirit of the son of Aeacus, fleet of foot,
passed with great strides along the mead of asphodel, rejoicing in
that I had told him of his son's renown.

'But lo, other spirits of the dead that be departed stood sorrow-
ing, and each one asked of those that were dear to them. The soul
of Aias son of Telamon, alone stood apart being still angry for the
victory wherein I prevailed against him, in the suit by the ships con-
cerning the arms of Achilles, that his lady mother had set for a prize ;
and the sons of the Trojans made award and Pallas Athene. Would
that I had never prevailed and won such a prize? So goodly a head
hath the earth closed over, for the sake of those arms, even over
Aias, who in beauty and in feats of war was of a mould above all
the other Danaans, next to the noble son of Peleus. To him then
I spake softly, saying:

' "Aias, son of noble Telamon, so art thou not even in death to
forget thy wrath against me, by reason of those arms accursed, which
the gods set to be the bane of the Argives ? What a tower of strength
fell in thy fall, and we Achaeans cease not to sorrow for thee, even as
for the life of Achilles, son of Peleus! Nay, there is none other to
blame, but Zeus, who hath borne wondrous hate to the army of the
Danaan spearsmen, and laid on thee thy doom. Nay, come hither,
master thy wrath and thy proud spirit."

'So I spake, but he answered me not a word and passed to Erebus
after the other spirits of the dead that be departed. Even then,
despite his anger, would he have spoken to me or I to him, but my
heart within me was minded to see the spirits of these others that
were departed.

There then I saw Minos, glorious son of Zeus, wielding a golden
sceptre, giving sentence from his throne to the dead, while they sat
and stood around the prince, asking his dooms through the wide-gated

48 RELIGIOUS IDEAS

house of Hades.

'And after him I marked the mighty Orion driving the wild beasts
together over the mead of asphodel, the very beasts that himself had
slain on the lonely hills, with a strong mace all of bronze in his hands,
that is ever unbroken.

'And I saw Tityos, son of renowned Earth, lying on a levelled
ground, and he covered nine roods as he lay, and vultures twain beset
him one on either side, and gnawed at his liver, piercing even to the
caul, but he drave them not away with his hands. For he had dealt
violently with Leto, the famous bedfellow of Zeus, as she went up to
Pytho through the fair lawns of Panopeus.

'Moreover I beheld Tantalus in grievous torment, standing in a
mere and the water came nigh unto his chin. And he stood straining
as one athirst, but he might not attain to the water to drink of it.
For often as that old man stooped down in his eagerness to drink,
so often the water was swallowed up and it vanished away, and the
black earth still showed at his feet, for some god parched it ever-
more. And tall trees flowering shed their fruit overhead, pears and
pomegranates and apple trees with bright fruit, and swept figs and
olives in their bloom, whereat when that old man reached out his
hands to clutch them, the wind would toss them to the shadowy clouds.

'Yea and I beheld Sisyphus in strong torment, grasping a mon-
strous stone with both his hands. He was pressing thereat with
hands and feet, and trying to roll the stone upward toward the brow
of the hill. But oft as he was about to hurl it over the top, the
weight would drive him back, so once again to the plain rolled the
stone, the shameless thing. And he once more kept heaving and
straining, and the sweat the while was pouring down his limbs, and
the dust rose upwards from his head.

'And after him I descried the mighty Heracles, his phantom, I
say ; but as for himself he hath joy at the banquet among the death-
less gods, and hath to wife Hebe of the fair ankles, child of great
Zeus, and of Here of the golden sandals. And all about him there
was a clamour of the dead, as it were fowls flying every way in fear,
and he like black Night, with bow uncased, and shaft upon the string,
fiercely glancing around, like one in the act to shoot. And about his
breast was an awful belt, a baldric of gold, whereon wondrous things
were wrought, bears and wild boars and lions with flashing eyes, and
strife and battles and slaughters and murders of men. Nay, now that
he hath fashioned this, never another may he fashion, whoso stored

RELIGIOUS IDEAS 49

in his craft the device of that belt ! And anon he knew me when his
eyes beheld me, and making lament he spake unto me winged words :

' "Son of Laertes, of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices :
ah! wretched one, dost thou too lead such a life of evil doom, as I
endured beneath the rays of the sun ? I was the son of Zeus Cronion,
yet had I trouble beyond measure, for I was subdued unto a man far
worse than I. And he enjoined on me hard adventures, yea and on
a time he sent me hither to bring back the hound of hell ; for he de-
vised no harder task for me than this. I lifted the hound and brought
him forth from out of the house of Hades ; and Hermes sped me on
my way and the grey-eyed Athene."

'Therewith he departed again into the house of Hades, but I abode
there still, if perchance some one of the hero folk besides might come,
who died in old time. Yea and I should have seen the men of old,
whom I was fain to look on, Theseus and Peirithous, renowned chil-
dren of the gods. But ere that might be the myriad tribes of the
dead thronged up together with wondrous clamour: and pale fear
gat hold of me, lest the high goddess Persephone should send me
the head of the Gorgon, that dread monster, from out of Hades.

'Straightway then I went to the ship, and bade my men mount
the vessel, and loose the hawsers. So speedily they went on board,
and sat upon the benches. And the wave of the flood bore the barque
down the stream of Oceanus, we rowing first, and afterwards the fair
wind was our convoy. — Odyssey, XI.

TRANSLATION OF BUTCHER AND LANG.

ELYSIUM

But thou, Menelaus, son of Zeus, art not ordained to die and
meet thy fate in Argos, the pasture-land of horses, but the deathless
gods will convey thee to the Elysian plain and the world's end, where
is Rhadamanthus of the fair hair, where life is easiest for men. No
snow is there, nor yet great storm, nor any rain; but always ocean
sendeth forth the breeze of the shrill West to blow cool on men : yea,
for thou hast Helen to wife, and thereby they deem thee to be son of
Zeus."— Odyssey, IV.

TRANSLATION OF BUTCHER AND LANG.

60 RELIGIOUS IDEAS

SECOND OLYMPIAN ODE
PINDAR, 522-443 B. c.

ANTISTROPHE III.

Alone in famed Olympia's sand
The victor's chaplet Theron wore;
But with him on the Isthmian strand,

On sweet Castalia's shore,
The verdant crowns, the proud reward
Of victory his brother shared,

Copartner in immortal praise,
As warmed with equal zeal
The light-foot courser's generous breed to raise,
And whirl around the goal the fervid wheel.
The painful strife Olympia's wreath repays :

But wealth with nobler virtue joined
The means and fair occasions must procure;

In glory's chase must aid the mind,
Expense and toil and danger to endure;
With mingling rays they feed each other's flame,
And shine the brightest lamp in all the sphere of fame.

EPODE III.

The happy mortal, who these treasures shares,
Well knows what fate attends his generous cares;
Knows, that beyond the verge of life and light,
In the sad regions of infernal night,
The fierce, impracticable, churlish mind
Avenging gods and penal woes shall find;
Where strict inquiring justice shall bewray
The crimes committed in the realms of day.
The impartial judge the rigid law declares,
No more to be reversed by penitence or prayers.

STROPHE IV.

But in the happy fields of light,
Where Phoebus with an equal ray

RELIGIOUS IDEAS 51

Illuminates the balmy night,

And gilds the cloudless day,
In peaceful, unmolested joy,
The good their smiling hours employ.
Them no uneasy wants constrain

To vex the ungrateful soil,
To tempt the dangers of the billowy main,
And break their strength with unabating toil,
A frail disastrous being to maintain.

But in their joyous calm abodes,
The recompense of justice they receive;

And in the fellowship of gods,
Without a tear, eternal ages live.
While banished by the fates from joy and rest,
Intolerable woes the impious soul infest.

ANTISTROPHE IV.

But they who, in true virtue strong,

The third purgation can endure;
And keep their minds from fraud ful wrong

And guilt's contagion, pure;
They through the starry paths of Jove
To Saturn's blissful seat remove:
Where fragrant breezes, vernal airs,

Sweet children of the main,
Purge the blest island from corroding cares,
And fan the bosom of each verdant plain :
Whose fertile soil immortal fruitage bears :

Trees, from whose flaming branches flow,
Arrayed in golden bloom, refulgent beams;

And flowers of golden hue, that blow
On the fresh borders of their parent streams.
These by the blest in solemn triumph worn,
Their unpolluted hands and clustering locks adorn.

EPODE IV.

Such is the righteous will, the high behest

Or Rhadamanthus, ruler of the blest ;

The just assessor of the throne divine,

On which, high raised above all gods, recline,

62 RELIGIOUS IDEAS

Linked in the golden bands of wedded love,
The great progenitors of thundering Jove.
There, in the number of the blest enrolled,
Live Cadmus, Peleus, heroes famed of old;
And young Achilles, to those isles removed,
Soon as, by Thetis won, relenting Jove approved.

TRANSLATION OF GILBERT WEST.

HAPPINESS OF THE DEPARTED

FOR them the night all through,

In that broad realm below,
The splendor of the sun spreads endless light;

'Mid rosy meadows bright,
Their city of the tombs with incense-trees,

And golden chalices

Of flowers, and fruitage fair,

Scenting the breezy air,

Is laden. There with horses and with play,
With games and lyres, they while the hours away.

On every side around

Pure happiness is found,
With all the blooming beauty of the world;

There fragrant smoke, upcurled
From altars where the blazing fire is dense

With perfumed frankincense,

Burned unto gods in heaven,

Through all the land is driven,
Making its pleasant places odorous
With scented gales and sweet airs amorous.

PINDAR, TRANSLATION OF j. A. SYMOND&

ISOCRATES ON THE MYSTERIES

But the benefits which we have conferred on others require a
deduction of much greater length ; for to show the merits of our
services, we must run over the annals of our history and record from
the beginning the transactions of our ancestors. We shall find that

RELIGIOUS IDEAS 53

it is to Athens the Greeks owe their all, whether with regard to war
or political institutions, or the arts which polish life and render it
agreeable. In this deduction you are not to expect a detail of those
less considerable services which time has obliterated or obscured and
which your orators have forgotten or disdained; but of those signal
benefits known to all, neglected by none, and celebrated in every age
and country.

To begin with the first and most necessary demand of human
nature you will find that our ancestors were they who supplied it.
Though what I am going to relate may be disfigured by tradition
or fable, the substance of it is not the less deserving of your regard.
When Ceres wandered from one country to another in quest of her
daughter, who had been carried off by violence, she received in Attica
the most favorable treatment, and those particular good offices which
it is lawful to make known only to the initiated. The goddess was
not ungrateful for such favors, but in return conferred on our ances-
tors the two most valuable presents which either Heaven can bestow
or mankind can receive; the practice of agriculture, which delivered
us from the fierce and precarious manner of life common to us with
wild animals; and the knowledge of those sacred mysteries which
fortify the initiated against all the terrors of death and inspire them
with the pleasing hopes of an happy immortality. Our ancestors dis-
covered as much benevolence in dispensing these favours, as piety in
obtaining them; for their humanity communicated what their virtue
had acquired. The mysteries were annually unveiled to all desirous
to receive them; and the practice, the means, the advantages of agri-
culture, were diffused over all Greece.

INSTITUTIONS

ATHENS

ARISTOTLE

ON THE

ATHENIAN CONSTITUTION

[THE ALCMEONIDAE were tried] by a court empanelled from
among" the noble families, and sworn upon the sacrifices. The part
of accuser was taken by Myron. They were found guilty of the sacri-
lege, and their dead were cast out of their graves and their race ban-
ished for evermore. Moreover, in addition to this, Epimenides the
Cretan performed a purification of the city.

2. After this event there was contention for a long time between
the upper classes and the populace. Not only was the constitution
at this time oligarchical in every respect, but the poorer classes, men,
women, and children, were in absolute slavery to the rich. They were
known as Pelatae and also as Hectemori, because they cultivated the
lands of the rich for a sixth part of the produce. The whole country
was in the hands of a few persons, and if the tenants failed to pay their
rent they were liable to be hauled into slavery, and their children with
them. Their persons were mortgaged to their creditors, a custom
which prevailed until the time of Solon, who was the first to appear
as a leader of the people. But the hardest and bitterest part of the
condition of the masses was the fact that they had no share in the
offices then existing under the constitution. At the same time they

HEAD OF PERICLES

by Kresilan

w (?) P. r.—t,i<) (?) 7?. a.

OA3H

, .

2. A»tct ihu <-v

\nt onlv was the constitution

nt onv was
the uppt-r cU »ne tx)puia'.e. -\oi um>

at this time oligarchical in every respect, but the poorer classes, men,
*<-,men. and Children, were in absolute slavery to the rich. They
i-yn*«i as Pelatar arvl also as Hectemori, because thev cultivat-
v;> oi the rich for a sixth part of the produce. The whole country

a« a tauter of the people. Rut the hardest and bin
of tht masses was the fact that they had

INSTITUTIONS 55

were discontented with every other feature of their lot ; for, to speak
generally, they had no part nor share in anything.

3. Now the ancient constitution, as it existed before the time of
Draco, was organized as follows. The magistrates were elected ac-
cording to qualifications of birth and wealth. At first they governed
for life, but subsequently for terms of ten years. The first magis-
trates, both in date and in importance, were the King, the Polemarch
[=commander in war], and the Archon. The earliest of these offices
was that of the King, which existed from the very beginning. To
this was added, secondly, the office of Polemarch, on account of some
of the kings being feeble in war ; for which reason Ion was invited to
accept the post on an occasion of pressing need. The last of these
three offices was that of the Archon, which most authorities state to
have come into existence in the time of Medon. Others assign it to
the time of Acastus, and adduce as proof the fact that the nine Archons
take oath to administer the state "as in the days of Acastus," which
seems to suggest that it was in his reign that the descendants of
Codrus abandoned a part of their prerogative in favour of the Archon.
It is not a matter of much importance, however, and in any case the
office came into existence about that period ; but that it was the last
of these magistracies to be created is shown by the fact that the Archon
has no part in the ancestral sacrifices, as the King and the Polemarch
have, but only in those of later origin. So it is only at a compara-
tively late date that the office of Archon has become of great im-
portance, by successive accretions of power. The Thesmothetae were
appointed many years afterwards, when these offices had already be-
come annual; and the object of their creation was that they might
record in writing all legal decisions, and act as guardians of them
with a view to executing judgment upon transgressors of the law.
Accordingly their office, alone of those which have been mentioned,
was never of more than annual duration.

So far, then, do these magistrates precede all others in point of
date. At that time the nine Archons did not all live together. The
King occupied the building now known as the Bucolium, near the
Prytaneum, as may be seen from the fact that even to the present day
the marriage of the King's wife to Dionysus takes place there. The
Archon lived in the Prytaneum, the Polemarch in the Epilyceum.
The latter building was formerly called the Polemarchetim, but after
Epilycus, during his term of office as Polemarch, had rebuilt it and
fitted it up, it was called the Epilyceum. The Thesmothetae occupied

56 INSTITUTIONS

the Thesmotheteum. In the time of Solon, however, they all came
together into the Thesmotheteum. They had power to decide cases
finally on their own authority, not, as now, merely to hold a prelim-
inary hearing. Such, then, was the arrangement of the magistracies.
The Council of Areopagus had as its constitutionally assigned duty
the protection of the laws; but in point of fact it administered the
greater and most important part of the government of the state, and
inflicted personal punishment and fines summarily upon all who mis-
behaved themselves. This was the natural consequence of the facts
that the Archons were elected under qualifications of birth and wealth,
and that the Areopagus was composed of those who had served as
Archons ; for which latter reason the membership of the Areopagus
is the only office which has continued to be a life-magistracy to the
present day.

4. Such was, in outline, the first constitution ; but not very long
after the events above recorded, in the archonship of Aristaichmes,
Draco drew up his legislation. The organization he established had
the following form. The franchise was given to all who could furnish
themselves with a military equipment. The nine Archons and the
Treasurers were elected by this body from persons possessing an
unencumbered property of not less than ten minas, the less import-
ant officials from those who could furnish themselves with a military
equipment, and the generals [Strategi] and commanders of the cav-
alry [Hipparchi] from those who could show an unencumbered prop-
erty of not less than a hundred minas, and had children born in lawful
wedlock over ten years of age. This qualification was to apply to the
Prytanes, the Strategi, and the Hipparchi, .... There was also to
be a Council, consisting of four hundred and one members, elected by
lot from among those who possessed the franchise. Both for this
and for the other magistracies the lot was cast among those who were
over thirty years of age; and no one might hold office twice until
everyone else had had his turn, after which they were to cast the lot
afresh. If any member of the Council failed to attend when there
was a sitting of the Council or of the Assembly, he paid a fine, to the
amount of three drachmas, if 'he was a Pentacosiomedimnus, two if
he was a Knight, and one if he was a Zeugites. The Council of Areo-
pagus was guardian of the laws, and kept watch over the magistrates
to see that they executed their offices in accordance with the laws.
Any person who felt himself wronged, might lay an information before
the Council of Areopagus, on declaring what law was broken by the

INSTITUTIONS 51

wrong done to him. But, as has been said before, the persons of the
people were mortgaged to their creditors, and the land was in the
hands of a few.

5. Now seeing that such was the organization of the constitu-
tion, and that the many were in slavery to the few, the people rose
against the upper class. The strife was keen, and for a long time the
two parties were face to face with one another, till at last, by common
consent, they appointed Solon to be mediator and Archon, and com-
mitted the whole constitution to his hands. The immediate cause of
his appointment was his poem, which begins with the words, —

I see, and within my heart deep sadness has claimed its place,
As I look on the oldest home of the ancient Ionian race :

and so he continues, fighting and disputing on behalf of each party
in turn against the other, and finally he advises them to come to terms
and put an end to the quarrel existing between them. By birth and
reputation Solon was one of the foremost men of the day, but in wealth
and position he was of the middle class, as is manifest from many
circumstances, and especially from his own evidence in these poems,
where he exhorts the wealthy not to be grasping.

But ye who have store of good, who are sated and overflow,
Restrain your swelling soul, and still it and keep it low:
Let the heart that is great within you be trained in a lowlier way:
Ye shall not have all at your will, and we will not for ever obey.

Indeed, he constantly ascribes the origin of the conflict to the rich ;
and accordingly at the beginning of the poem he says that he fears
"the love of wealth and an overweening mind," evidently meaning
that it was through these that the quarrel arose.

6. As soon as he was at the head of affairs, Solon liberated the
people once and for all, by prohibiting all loans on the security of the
person of the debtor: and at the same time he made laws by which
he cancelled all debts, public and private. This measure is commonly
called the Seisachtheia [^removal of burdens], since thereby the
people had their loads removed from them. In connection with it
some persons try to traduce the character of Solon. It so happened
that, when he was about to enact the Seisachtheia, he announced his
intention to some members of the upper class, and then, as the par-
tisans of the popular party say, his friends stole a march on him, while
those who wish to attack his character maintain that he too had a

V 2-4

58 INSTITUTIONS

share in the fraud himself. For these persons borrowed money and
bought up a large amount of land, and so, when, a short time after-
wards, all debts were cancelled, they became wealthy; and this, they
say, was the origin of the families which were afterwards looked on
as possessing wealth from primeval times. However, the story of
the popular party is by far the most probable. A man like Solon,
who was so moderate and just in all his other actions, that although
he might have put the laws beneath his feet and have established him-
self as tyrant, he preferred instead to incur the hostility of both parties
by placing his honour and the general welfare above his personal ag-
grandisement, is not likely to have consented to defile his hands by
such a petty and unworthy transaction. That he had this absolute
power and that he remedied the diseases of the body politic, he both
testifies himself repeatedly in his poems, and it is admitted by all;
and therefore we are bound to consider this accusation to be false.

7. Next Solon drew up a constitution and enacted new laws;
and the statutes of Draco ceased to be used with the exception of
those relating to murder. The laws were inscribed on the pillars, and
set up in the King's Porch, and all swore to obey them ; and the nine
Archons made oath upon the stone and declared that they would dedi-
cate a golden statute if they should transgress any of them. This is
the origin of the oath to that effect which they take to the present day.
Solon ratified his laws for a hundred years ; and the following was the
fashion of his organization of the constitution. He made a division
of all rateable property into four classes, just as it had been divided
before, namely, Pentacosiomedimni, Knights, Zeugitae, and Thetes.
The various magistracies, namely, the nine Archons, the Treasurers,
the Commissioners for Public Contracts [Poletae], the Eleven, and
the Exchequer Clerks [Colacretae], he assigned to the Pentacosio-
medimni, the Knights, and the Zeugitae, giving offices to each class
in proportion to the value of their rateable property. To those who
ranked among the Thetes he gave nothing but a place in the Assem-
bly and in the juries. A man had to rank as a Pentacosiomedimnus
if he made, from his own land, five hundred measures, whether liquid
or solid. Those ranked as Knights who made three hundred meas-
ures, or, as some say, those who were able to maintain a horse. In
support of the latter definition they adduce the name of the class,
which may be supposed to be derived from this fact, and also some
votive offerings of early times ; for in the Acropolis there is a votive
offering, a statue of Diphilus, bearing this inscription : —

INSTITUTIONS 59

The son of Diphilus, Anthemion hight,
Raised from the Thetes and become a Knight,
Did to the gods this sculptured charger bring,
For his promotion a thank-offering.

And a horse stands beside the man, which seems to show that this
was what was meant by belonging to the rank of Knight. At the
same time it seems more reasonable to suppose that this class, like
the Pentacosiomedimni, was defined by the possession of an income
of a certain number of measures. Those ranked as Zeugitae who
made two hundred measures, liquid or solid ; and the rest ranked as
Thetes, and were not eligible for any office. Hence it is that even
at the present day, when a candidate for any office is asked to what
rank he belongs, no one would think of saying that he belonged to
the Thetes.

8. The elections to the various offices Solon enacted should be
by lot, out of candidates selected by each of the tribes. Each tribe
selected ten candidates for the nine archonships, and among these
the lot was cast. Hence it is still the custom for each tribe to choose
ten candidates by lot, and then the lot is again cast among these. A
proof that Solon regulated the elections to- office according to the
property classes may be found in the law which is still in force for the
election of the Treasurers, which enacts that they shall be chosen
from the Pentacosiomedimni. Such was Solon's legislation with re-
spect to the nine Archons ; whereas in early times the Council of Areo-
pagus summoned suitable persons according to its own judgment and
appointed them for the year to the several offices. There were four
tribes, as before, and four tribe-kings. Each tribe was divided into
three Trittyes [=Thirds], with twelve Naucraries in each; and the
Naucraries had officers of their own, called Naucrari, whose duty it
was to superintend the current receipts and expenditure. Hence
among the laws of Solon now (as is natural) obsolete, it is written that
the Naucrari are to receive and spend out of the Naucraric fund,
Solon also appointed a Council of four hundred, a hundred from
each tribe ; but he still assigned to the Areopagus the duty of super-
intending the laws. It continued, as before, to be the guardian of
the constitution in general; it kept watch over the citizens in all the
most important matters, and corrected offenders, having full powers
to inflict either fines or personal punishment. The money received
in fines it brought up into the Acropolis, without assigning the reason
for the punishment ; and Solon also gave it the power to try those

60 INSTITUTIONS

who conspired for the overthrow of the state. Such were Solon's
regulations concerning the Areopagus. Further, since he saw the
state often engaged in internal disputes, while many of the citizens
from sheer indifference waited to see what would turn up, he made
a few with express reference to such persons, enacting that anyone
who, in a time of civil factions, did not take up arms with either party,
should lose his rights as a citizen and cease to have any part in the
state.

9. Such, then, was his legislation concerning the magistrates
of the state. There are three points in the constitution of Solon
which appear to be its most democratic features : first and most im-
portant, the prohibition of loans on the security of the debtor's per-
son; secondly, the right of every person who so willed to bring an
action on behalf of anyone to whom wrong was being done ; thirdly,
the institution of the appeal to the law-courts ; and it is by means of
this last, they say, that the masses have gained ' strength most of all,
since, when the democracy is master of the voting-power, it is master
of the constitution. Moreover, since the laws were not drawn up
in simple and explicit terms (but like the one concerning inheritances
and wards of state), disputes inevitably occurred, and the courts had
to decide in every matter, whether public or private. Some persons
in fact believe that Solon deliberately made the laws indefinite, in
order that the people might have something left to its final decision.
This, however, is not at all probable, and the reason no doubt was
that it was impossible to attain ideal perfection when framing a law
in general terms ; for we must judge of his intentions, not from the
actual results in the present day, but from the general tenor of the
rest of his legislation.

10. These seem to be the democratic features of his laws; but
in addition, before the period of his legislation, he made his abolition
of debts, and after it his increase in the standards of weights and
measures, and of the currency. During his term of office the meas-
ures were made larger than those of Pheidon, and the mina, which
previously contained about seventy drachmas, was raised to the full
hundred. The standard coin in earlier times was the two-drachma
piece. He also appointed as the standard of currency the propor-
tion of sixty minas to the talent, and the mina was also distributed
into staters and the other values.

11. When he had completed his organization of the constitution
in the manner that has been described, he found himself beset by

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people coming to him and harassing him concerning his laws, criti-
cising here and questioning there, till, as he neither wished to alter
what he had decided on nor yet to be an object of ill-will to everyone
by remaining in Athens, he set off on a journey to Egypt, to the
neighbourhood of the city of Canopus, for ten years, with the com-
bined objects of trade and travel. He considered that there was no
call for him to expound the laws personally, but that everyone should
obey them just as they were written. Moreover, his position at this
time was such that many members of the upper class had been es-
tranged from him on account of his abolition of debts, and both
parties were alienated through their disappointment at the condition
of things which he had created. The mass of the people had ex-
pected him to make a complete redistribution of all property, and
the upper class hoped he would restore everything to its former posi-
tion; and since he disappointed these expectations he was regarded
with hostility by both classes. He might have made himself a despot
by attaching himself to whichever party he chose, but he preferred,
though at the cost of incurring the enmity of both, to save the country
and establish the best laws that were possible.

12. The truth of this view of Solon's policy is established alike
by the common consent of all, and by the mention which he has him-
self made of it in his poems. Thus : —

I gave to the mass of the people such rank as befitted their need,
I took not away their honour, and I granted naught to their greed ;
But those who were rich in power, who in wealth were glorious and

great,

I bethought me that naught should befall them unworthy their splen-
dour and state:

And I stood with my shield outstretched, and both were safe in its sight,
And I would not that either should triumph, when the triumph was
not with right.

Again he declares how the mass of the people ought to be treated : — •

But thus will the people best the voice of their leaders obey,
When neither too slack is the rein, nor violence holdeth the sway;
For satiety breedeth a child, the presumption that spurns control,
When riches too great are poured upon men of unbalanced soul.

And again elsewhere he speaks about the persons who wished to
redistribute the land: —

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So they came in search of plunder, and their cravings knew no bound,
Every one among them deeming endless wealth would here be found,
And that I with glozing smoothness hid a cruel mind within.
Fondly then and vainly dreamt they; now they raise an angry din,
And they glare askance in anger, and the light within their eyes
Burns with hostile flames upon me. Yet therein no justice lies.
All I promised, fully wrought I with the gods at hand to cheer,
Naught beyond of folly ventured. Never to my soul was dear
With a tyrant's force to govern, nor to see the good and base
Side by side in equal portion share the rich home of our race.
Once more he speaks of the destitution of the poorer classes and of
those who before were in servitude, but were released owing to the
Seisachtheia : —

Wherefore I freed the racked and tortured crowd

From all the evils that beset their lot,

Thou, when slow time brings justice in its train,,

0 mighty mother of the Olympian gods,

Dark Earth, thou best canst witness, from whose breast

1 swept the pillars broad-cast planted there,

[And made thee free, who hadst been slave of yore.
And many a man whom fraud or law had sold
Far from his god-built land, an outcast slave,
I brought again to Athens; yea, and some,
Exiles from home through debt's oppressive load,
Speaking no more the dear Athenian tongue,
But wandering far and wide, I brought again;
And those that here in vilest slavery
Crouched 'neath a master's frown, I set them free.
Thus might and right were yoked in harmony,
Since by the force of law I won my ends
And kept my promise. Equal laws I gave
To evil and to good, with even hand
Drawing straight justice for the lot of each.
But had another held the goad as I,
One in whose heart was guile and greediness,
He had not kept the people back from strife.
For had I granted, now what pleased the one,
Then what their foes devised within their hearts,
Of many a man this state had been bereft.
Therefore I took me strength from every side

INSTITUTIONS 63

And turned at bay like wolf among the hounds.
And again he reviles both parties for their grumblings in the times
that followed: —

Nay, if one must lay blame where blame is due,
Wer't not for me, the people ne'er had set
Their eyes upon these blessings e'en in dreams : —
But greater men, the men of wealthier life,
Should praise me and should court me as their friend.
For had any other man, he says, received this exalted post,--
He had not kept the people back, nor ceased
Till he had robbed the richness of the milk.
But I stood forth, a landmark in the midst,
And barred the foes from battle.

13. Such, then, were Solon's reasons for his departure from the
country. After his retirement the city was still torn by divisions. For
four years, indeed, they lived in peace ; but in the fifth year after
Solon's government they were unable to elect an Archon on account
of the dissensions, and again four years later they elected no Archon
for the same reason. Subsequently, after a similar period had
elapsed, Damasias was elected Archon; and he governed for two
years and two months, until he was forcibly expelled from his office.
After this it was agreed, on account of the dissensions, to elect ten
Archons, five from the Eupatridae, three from the Agroeci, and two
from the Demiurgi ; and these officers ruled for the year following
Damassias. It is clear from this that the Archon was at that time
the magistrate who possessed the greatest power, since it is always
in connection with this office that conflicts are seen to arise. But
altogether they were in a continual state of internal disorder. Some
found the cause and justification of their discontent in the abolition
of debts, because thereby they had been reduced to poverty; others
were dissatisfied with the political constitution, because it had under-
gone a revolutionary change; while with others the motive was
found in personal rivalries among themselves. The parties at this
time were three in number. First there was the party of the Shore,
whose leader was Megacles the son of Alcmeon, which was consid-
ered to aim at a moderate form of government; then there were the
men of the Plain, who desired an oligrachy and were led by Lycur-
gus ; and thirdly there were the men of the Highlands, at the head of
whom was Pisistratus, who was looked on as an extreme democrat.
To this latter party were attached those who had been deprived of

64 INSTITUTIONS

the debts due to them, from motives of poverty, and those who were
not of pure descent, from motives of personal apprehension. A proof
of this is seen in the fact that after the tyranny was overthrown a
resolution was passed to the effect that many persons were partaking
in the franchise without having a right to it. The names given to
the respective parties were derived from the districts in which they
held their lands.

14. Pisistratus had the reputation of being an extreme demo-
crat, and he also had distinguished himself greatly in the war with
Megara. Taking advantage of this, he wounded himself, and by
representing that his injuries had been inflicted on him by his politi-
cal rivals, he persuaded the people, through a motion proposed by
Aristion, to grant him a body-guard. After he had got these "club-
bearers," as they were called, he made an attack with them on the
people and seized the Acropolis. This happened in the archonship
of Corneas, thirty-one years after the legislation of Solon. It is re-
lated that, when Pisistratus asked for his body-guard, Solon opposed
the request, and declared that in so doing he proved himself wiser
than half the people and braver than the rest, — wiser than those who
did not see that Pisistratus designed to make himself tyrant, and
braver than those who saw it and kept silence. But when all his
words availed nothing he carried forth his armour and set it up in
front of his house, saying that he had helped his country so far as lay
in his power (he was already a very old man), and that he called on
all others to do the same. Solon's exhortations, however, proved
fruitless, and Pisistratus assumed the sovereignty. His administra-
tion was far more like a constitutional government than the rule of
a tyrant; but before his power was firmly established, the adherents
of Megacles and Lycurgus made a coalition and drove him out. This
took place in the archonship of Hegesias, five years after the first
establishment of his rule. Eleven years later Megacles, being in
difficulties in a party struggle, again opened negotiations with Pisis-
tratus, proposing that the latter should marry his daughter; and on
these terms he brought him back to Athens, by a very primitive and
simple-minded device. He first spread abroad a rumour that Athena
was bringing back Pisistratus, and then, having found a woman of
great stature and beauty, named Phye (according to Herodotus, of
the deme of Paeania, but as others say a Thracian flower-seller of
the deme of Colyttus), he dressed her in garb resembling that of the
goddess and brought her into the city with Pisistratus. The latter

INSTITUTIONS 65

drove in on a chariot with the woman beside him, and the inhabitants
of the city, struck with awe, received him with adoration.

15. In this manner did his first return take place. He did not,
however, hold his power long, for about six years after his return he
was again expelled. He refused to treat the daughter of Megacles
as his wife, and being afraid, in consequence, of a combination of
the two opposing parties, he retired from the country. First he led
a colony to a place called Rhaicelus, in the region of the Thermaic
gulf; and thence he passed to the country in the neighbourhood' of
Mt. Pangaeus. Here he acquired wealth and hired mercenaries ; and
not till ten years had elapsed did he descend on Eretria and make an
attempt to recover the government by force. In this he had the as-
sistance of many allies, notably the Thebans and Lygdamis of Naxos,
and also the Knights who held the supreme power in the constitu-
tion of Eretria. After his victory in the battle at Pallene he recov-
ered the sovereignty, and when he had disarmed the people he at last
established his tyranny securely, and was able to proceed to Naxos
and set up Lygdamis as ruler there. He effected the disarmament of
the people in the following manner. He held a review in full amour
in the Theseum, and began to make a speech to the people. He spoke,
however, in a low voice; and when the people called out that they
could not hear him, he bade them come up to the entrance of the
Acropolis, in order that his voice might be better heard. Then,
while he continued to speak to them at great length, men whom he
had appointed for the purpose collected the arms and locked them up
in the neighbouring chambers of the Theseum, and came and made
a signal to him. Pisistratus accordingly, when he had finished the
rest of what he had to say, told the people also what had happened to
their arms; and he exhorted them not to be surprised or alarmed,
but to go home and attend to their private affairs, while he would for
the future manage all the business of the state.

1 6. Such was the origin and such the vicissitudes of the tyranny
of Pisistratus. His administration was temperate, as has been said
before, and more like constitutional government than a tyranny. Not
only was he in every respect humane and mild and ready to forgive
those who offended, but, in addition, he advanced money to the poorer
people to help them in their labours, so that they might make their
living by agriculture. In this he had two objects, first that they
might not spend their time in the city but might be scattered over all
the face of the country, and second that, being moderately well off and

t>6 INSTITUTIONS

occupied with their own business, they might have neither the wish
nor the time to attend to public affairs. At the same time his rev-
enues were increased by the thorough cultivation of the country,
since he imposed a tax of one tenth on all the produce. For the
same reasons he instituted the local justices, and often made expedi-
tions in person into the country to inspect it and to settle disputes
between individuals, that they might not come into the city and neg-
lect their farms. It was in one of these progresses that, as the story
goes, Pisistratus had his adventure with the man in the district of
Hymettus, who was cultivating the spot afterwards known as "Tax-
free Farm." He saw a man digging and working at a very stony
piece of ground with a stake, and being surprised at his implement
he sent and asked what he got out of this plot of land. "Aches and
pains," said the man; "and out of these Pisistratus has got to have
his tenth." The man spoke without knowing who his questioner
was ; but Pisistratus was so pleased with his frank speech and his in-
dustry that he granted him exemption from all taxes. And so in
matters in general he burdened the people as little as possible with
his government, but always cultivated peace and kept them in all
quietness. Hence the tyranny of Pisistratus was often spoken of
proverbially as "the age of gold" ; since later the government became
much harsher, owing to the excesses of his sons. The quality which
gave most satisfaction of all was his popular and kindly disposition.
In his whole administration he was accustomed to observe the laws,
without giving himself any exceptional privileges. Once he was
summoned on a charge of homicide before the Areopagus, and he
appeared in person to make his defence ; but the prosecutor was afraid
to present himself and abandoned the case. For these reasons his
government continued long, and whenever he was expelled he re-
gained his position easily. The majority alike of the upper class
and of the people were in his favour ; the former he won by his social
intercourse with them, the latter by the assistance which he gave to
their private purses, and his nature fitted him to win the hearts of
both. Moreover, the laws in reference to tyrants at that time in force
at Athens were very mild, especially the one which applies more par-
ticularly to the subject. The law ran as follows: "These are the an-
cestral statutes of the Athenians ; if any persons shall make an attempt
to establish a tyranny, or if any person shall join in setting up a
tyranny, he shall lose his civic rights, both himself and his whole
house."

INSTITUTIONS 67

17. Thus did Pisistratus grow old in the possession of power,
and he died a natural death in the archonship of Philoneos, three and
thirty years from the time at which he first established himself as
tyrant, during nineteen of which he was in the possession of power;
the rest he spent in exile. It is evident from this that the story is
mere gossip which states that Pisistratus was the youthful favourite
of Solon and commanded in the war against Megara for the recovery
of Salamis. It will not harmonize with their respective ages, as
anyone may see who will reckon up the years of the life of each of
them, and the dates at which they died. After the death of Pisis-
tratus his sons took up the government, and conducted it on the
same system. He had two sons by his first and legitimate wife,
Hippias and Hipparchus, and two by his Argive consort, lophon and
Hegesistratus, who had the surname of Thessalus. For Pisistratus
took a wife from Argos, of the name of Timonassa, the daughter of
a man of Argos, named Gorgilus; she had previously been the wife
of Archinus of Ambracia, one of the descendants of Cypselus. This
was the origin of his friendship with the Argives, and a thousand of
them were brought over by Hegesistratus and fought on his side in
the battle at Pallene. Some authorities say that this marriage took
place after his first expulsion from Athens, others while he was in
possession of the government.

1 8. Hippias and Hipparchus assumed the control of affairs on
grounds alike of standing and of age ; but Hippias, as being the elder
and being also naturally of a statesmanlike and shrewd disposition,
was really the head of the government. Hipparchus was youthful in
disposition, amorous, and fond of literature, and it was he who invited
to Athens Anacreon, Simonides, and the other poets. Thessalus was
much junior in age, and was violent and headstrong in his behaviour.
It was from the character of Hipparchus that all the evils arose which
befell the house. He became enamoured of Harmodius, and, since
he failed to win his affection, he lost all restraint upon his passion,
and after several other insults he finally manifested his rage by for-
bidding the sister of Harmodius to take the part of a basket-bearer
in the Panathenaic procession, insulting Harmodius at the same time
by alleging as his reason that he was a person of loose life. The
result of this was that Harmodius and Aristogeiton, in a frenzy of
wrath, did their celebrated deed, in conjunction with a number of
other citizens. But while they were watching Hippias in the Acrop-

68 INSTITUTIONS

olis during the Panathenaea (Hippias, at this moment, was initiating
the sacrifice, while Hipparchus was organizing the procession) they
saw one of the persons privy to the plot talking familiarly with him.
Thinking that he was betraying them, and desiring to do something
before they were arrested, they rushed down and made their attempt
without waiting for the rest of their confederates, and killed Hippar-
chus near the Leocoreum while he was engaged in arranging the pro-
cession. This, however, ruined the design as a whole; and, of the
two leaders, Harmodius was killed on the spot by the guards, while
Aristogeiton was arrested later, and perished after suffering long
tortures. While under the torture he accused many persons who
belonged by birth to the most distinguished families and were also
personal friends of the tyrants. At first the government could find
no clue to the conspiracy; for the current story, that Hippias made
all who were taking part in the procession leave their arms, and then
detected those who were carrying secret daggers, cannot be true,
since at that time they did not bear arms in the processions, this being
a custom instituted at a later period by the democracy. According
to the story of the popular party, Aristogeiton accused the friends of
the tyrants with the deliberate intention that the latter might commit
an impious act, and at the same time weaken themselves by putting
to death innocent men who were their own friends ; others say that
he told no falsehood, but was betraying the actual accomplices. At
last, when for all his efforts he could not obtain release by death, he
promised to give further information against a number of other per-
sons ; and, having induced Hippias to give him his hand to confirm
his word, as soon as he had hold of it he reviled him for giving his
hand to the murderer of his brother, till Hippias, in a frenzy of rage,
lost control of himself and drew out his dagger and despatched nim.
19. After this event the tyranny became much harsher. In
consequence of his vengeance for his brother, and of the execution
and banishment of a large number of persons, Hippias became a dis-
trustful and an embittered man. About three years after the death
of Hipparchus, finding his position in the city insecure, he set about
fortifying Munychia, with the intention of removing thither. While
he was still engaged on this work, however, he was expelled by Cleo-
menes, king of Lacedaemon, in consequence of the Spartans being
continually warned by oracles to overthrow the tyranny. The oracles
were obtained in the following way. The Athenian exiles, headed
by the Alcmeonidae, could not by their own power effect their return,

INSTITUTIONS bJ

but failed continually in their attempts. Among their other failures,
they fortified a post in Attica, Lipsydrium, above Mt. Parnes, and
were there joined by some partisans from the city ; but they were be-
sieged by the tyrants and reduced to surrender. After this disaster
the following became a popular drinking song: —

Ah! for Lipsydrium, name of woe

And treachery ; ah ! for the men laid low,

Nobly born and great in deed ;

Well did they prove themselves at need

Of noble sires a noble seed.

Having failed, then, in every other method, they took the contract
for rebuilding the temple at Delphi, using for that purpose the con-
siderable wealth which they possessed, with the view of securing the
help of the Lacedaemonians. The Pythia accordingly was continu-
ally enjoining on the Lacedaemonians who came to consult the oracle,
that they must free Athens ; and very soon she succeeded in turning
the Spartans in that direction, although the house of Pisistratus was
connected with them by ties of hospitality. At the same time the
resolution of the Lacedaemonians was at least equally due to the
friendship which had been formed between the house of Pisistratus
and Argos. Accordingly they first sent Anchimolus by sea at the
head of an army ; but he was defeated and killed, through the arrival
of Cineas of Thessaly to support the sons of Pisistratus with a force
of a thousand horsemen. Then, being roused to anger by this dis-
aster, they sent their king, Cleomenes, by land at the head of a larger
force; and he, after defeating the Thessalian cavalry when they at-
tempted to intercept his march into Attica, shut up Hippias within
what was known as the Pelargic wall and blockaded him there with
the assistance of the Athenians. While he was sitting down before
the place, it so happened that the sons of the Pisistratidae were cap-
tured in an attempt to make their escape from the country; upon
which the tyrants capitulated on condition of the safety of their child-
ren, and surrendered the Acropolis to the Athenians, five days being
first allowed them to remove their effects. This took place in the
archonship of Harpactides, after they had held the tyranny for about
seventeen years since their father's death, or in all, including the
period of their father's rule, for nine and forty years.

20. After the overthrow of the tyranny, the rival leaders in the
state were Isagoras son of Tisander, a partisan of the tyrants, and

70 INSTITUTIONS

Cleisthenes, who belonged to the family of the Alcmeonidae. Cleis-
thenes, being beaten in the political clubs, attracted the people to his
side by giving the franchise to the masses. Thereupon Isagoras,
finding himself left inferior in power, invited Cleomenes, who was
united to him by ties of hospitality, to return to Athens, and persuaded
him to "drive out the pollution," a plea derived from the fact that the
Alcmeonidae were supposed to be under the curse of pollution. On
this, Cleisthenes, with a few of his adherents, retired from the country,
and Cleomenes expelled, as polluted, seven hundred Athenian fami-
lies. Having effected this, he next attempted to dissolve the Council,
and to set up Isagoras and three hundred of his partisans as the sup-
reme power in the state. The Council, however, resisted, the popu-
lace flocked together, and Cleomenes and Isagoras, with their ad-
herents, took refuge in the Acropolis. Here the people sat down and
besieged them for two days ; and on the third they agreed to let Cleo-
menes and all his followers depart, while they sent to summon Cleis-
thenes and the other exiles back to Athens. When the people had
thus obtained the command of affairs, Cleisthenes was their chief and
the leader of the people. And this was natural ; for the Alcmeonidae
were perhaps the chief cause of the expulsion of the tyrants, and for
the greater part of their rule they were at perpetual war with them.
But even earlier than the attempts of the Alcmeonidae, Cedon made
an attack on the tyrants; whence there was also a popular drinking
song, addressed to him : —

Pour a health yet again, boy, to Cedon; forget not this duty to do,
If a health is an honour befitting the name of a good man and true.

21. The people, therefore, had good reason to place confidence
in Cleisthenes. Accordingly when, at this time, he found himself at
the head of the masses, three years after the expulsion of the tyrants,
in the archonship of Isagoras, his first step was to distribute the whole
population into ten tribes in place of the existing four, with the object
of intermixing the members of the different tribes, so that more per-
sons might have a share in the franchise. From this arose the saying
"do not look at the tribes," addressed to those who wished to scru-
tinize the lists of the clans. Next he made the Council to consist
of five hundred members instead of four hundred, each tribe now
contributing fifty, whereas formerly each had sent a hundred. The
reason why he did not organize the people into twelve tribes was that
he might not have to divide them according to the already existing

INSTITUTIONS 71

Trittyes ; for the four tribes had twelve Trittyes, so that he would not
have achieved his object of redistributing the population in fresh
combinations. Further, he divided the country by denies into thirty
parts, ten from the districts about the city, ten from the coast, and
ten from the interior. These he called Trittyes; and he assigned
three of them by lot to each tribe, in such a way that each should have
one portion in each of these three divisions. All who lived in any
given deme he declared fellow-demesmen, to the end that the new citi-
zens might not be exposed by the habitual use of family names, but that
men might be known by the names of their demes; and accordingly
it is by the names of their demes that the Athenians still speak of one
another. He also instituted Demarchs, who had the same duties as
the previously existing Naucrari, — the demes being made to take the
place of the nafucraries. He gave names to the demes, some from
the localities to which they belonged, some from the persons who
founded them, since some of them no longer corresponded to locali-
ties possessing names. On the other hand he allowed everyone to
retain his family and clan and religious rites according to ancestral
custom. The names given to the tribes were the ten which the Pythia
appointed out of the hundred selected national heroes.

22. By these reforms the constitution became much more dem-
ocratic than that of Solon. The laws of Solon had been obliterated
by disuse during the period of the tyranny, while those which replaced
them were drawn up by Cleisthenes with the object of securing the
goodwill of the masses. Among these was the law concerning os-
tracism. Four years after the establishment of this system, in the
archonship of Hermoucreon, they first imposed upon the Council of
Five Hundred the oath which they take to the present day. Next
they began to elect the generals according to tribes, one from each
tribe, while the Polemarch was the commander of the whole army.
Then, eleven years later, they won the victory of Marathon, in the
archonship of Phaenippus ; and two years after this victory, when the
people had now gained self-confidence, they for the first time made
use of the law of ostracism. It was originally passed as a precaution
against men in high office, because Pisistratus took advantage of his
position as a popular leader and general to make himself tyrant ; and
the first person ostracised was one of his relatives, Hipparchus son
of Charmus, of the deme of Colyttus, the very person on whose ac-
count especially Cleisthenes had passed the law, as he wished to get
rid of him. Hitherto, however, he had escaped; for the Athenians,

72 INSTITUTIONS

with the usual leniency of the democracy, allowed all the partisans of
the tyrants, who had not joined in their evil deeds in the time of the
troubles, to remain in the city ; and the chief and leader of these was
Hipparchus. Then in the very next year, in the archonship of Tele-
sinus, they for the first time since the tyranny elected the nine
Archons by lot out of the five hundred candidates selected by the
demes, all the earlier ones having been elected by vote; and in the
same year Megacles son of Hippocrates, of the deme of Alopece, was
ostracised. Thus for three years they continued to ostracise the
friends of the tyrants, on whose account the law had been passed ;
but in the following year they began to remove others as well, in-
cluding anyone who seemed to be more powerful than was expedient.
The first person unconnected with the tyrants who was ostracised
was Xanthippus son of Ariphron. Two years later, in the archon-
ship of Nicodemus, the mines of Maroneia were discovered, and the
state made a profit of a hundred talents from the working of them.
Some persons advised the people to make a distribution of the money
among themselves, but this was prevented by Themistocles. He re-
fused to say on what he proposed to spend the money, but he bade
them lend it to the hundred richest men in Athens, one talent to each,
and then, if the manner in which it was employed pleased the people,
the expenditure should be charged to the state, but otherwise the
state should receive the sum back from those to whom it was lent.
On these terms he received the money and with it he had a hundred
triremes built, each of the hundred individuals building one ; and it
was with these ships that they fought the battle of Salamis against
the barbarians. About this time Aristides the son of Lysimachus
was ostracised. Three years later, however, in the archonship of
Hypsichides, all the ostracised persons were recalled, on account of
the advance of the army of Xerxes ; and it was laid down for the
future that persons under sentence of ostracism must live between
Geraestus and Scyllaeum, on pain of losing their civic rights irre-
vocably.

23. Up to this point had the city progressed by this time in
gradual growth, the democracy growing with it ; but after the Persian
wars the Council of Areopagus once more developed strength and
assumed the control of the state. It did not acquire this supremacy
by virtue of any formal decree, but because it had been the cause of
the battle of Salamis being fought. When the generals were utterly
at a loss how to meet the crisis and made proclamation that everyone

INSTITUTIONS 73

must see to his own safety, the Areopagus provided a donation of
money, distributing eight drachmas to each member of the ships'
crews, and so prevailed on them to go on board. On these grounds
it obtained a great advance in public estimation; and during this
period Athens was well administered. At this time they devoted
themselves to the prosecution of the war and were in high repute
among the Greeks, and the command by sea was conferred upon
them, in spite of the opposition of the Lacedaemonians. The leaders
of the people during this period were Aristides, son of Lysimachus,
and Themistocles, son of Neocles, of whom the latter devoted himself
to the conduct of war, while the former had the reputation of being
a clever statesman and the most upright man of his time. Accord-
ingly the one was usually employed as general, the other as a political
adviser. The rebuilding of the fortifications they conducted in com-
bination, although they were political opponents ; but it was Aristides
who guided the public policy in the matter of the defection of the
Ionian states and the alliance with Sparta, seizing the opportunity
afforded by the discredit brought upon the Lacedaemonians by the
misconduct of Pausanias. It follows that it was he who arranged
the tribute from the various allied states, which was first instituted
two years after the battle of Salamis, in the archonship of Timos-
thenes; and it was he who took the oath of offensive and defensive
alliance with the lonians, on which occasion they cast the masses of
iron into the sea.

24. After this, seeing the state growing in confidence and much
wealth accumulated, he advised the people to lay hold of the leader-
ship of the league, and to quit the country districts and settle in the
city. He pointed out to them that all would be able to gain a living
there, some by service in the army, others in the garrisons, others
by taking a part in public affairs ; and in this way they would secure
the leadership. This advice was taken; and when the people had
assumed the supreme control they proceeded to treat their allies in
a more imperious fashion, with the exception of the Chians, Lesbians,
and Samians. These they maintained to protect their empire, leaving
their constitutions untouched, and allowing them to retain whatever
dominion they then possessed. They also secured an ample main-
tenance for the mass of the population in the way which Aristides
had pointed out to them. Out of the proceeds of the tributes and
the taxes and the contributions of the allies more than twenty thous-
and persons were maintained. There were 600 jurymen, 1,600 bow-

V 2-5

74 INSTITUTIONS

men, 1, 200 Knights, 500 members of the Council, 500 guards of the
dockyards, besides fifty guards in the city. There were some 700
magistrates within the city, and some 700 whose jurisdiction lay out-
side of it. Further, when they subsequently went to war, there were
in addition 2,500 heavy armed troops, twenty guard-ships, and other
ships which collected the tributes, with crews amounting to 2,000
men, selected by lot ; and besides these there were the persons main-
tained at the Prytaneum, and orphans, and gaolers, since all these
were supported by the state.

25. In this way the people earned their livelihood. The sup-
remacy of the Areopagus lasted, however, for about seventeen years
after the Persian wars, although gradually declining. But as the
strength of the masses increased, Ephialtes, son of Sophonides, a
man with a reputation for incorruptibility and possessing a high
public character, who had become the leader of the people, made an
attack upon that Council. First of all he caused the destruction of
many of its members by bringing actions against them with refer-
ence to their administration. Then, in the archonship of Conon, he
stripped the Council of all the acquired prerogatives from which it
derived its guardianship of the constitution, and assigned some of
them to the Council of Five Hundred, and others to the Assembly
and the law-courts. In this revolution he was assisted by Themis-
tocles, who was himself a member of the Areopagus, but was ex-
pecting to be tried before it on a charge of treasonable dealings with
Persia. This made him anxious that it should be overthrown, and
accordingly he warned Ephialtes that the Council intended to arrest
him, while at the same time he informed the Areopagites that he
would reveal to them certain persons who were conspiring to subvert
the constitution. He then conducted the representatives delegated
by the Council to the residence of Ephialtes, promising to show them
the conspirators who assembled there, and proceeded to converse
with them in an earnest manner. Ephialtes, seeing this, was seized
with alarm and took refuge in suppliant guise at the altar. Every-
one was astounded at the occurrence, and presently, when the Coun-
cil of Five Hundred met, Ephialtes and Themistocles together pro-
ceeded to denounce the Areopagus to them. This they repeated in
similar fashion in the Assembly, until they succeeded in depriving it
of its power. Not long afterwards, however, Ephialtes was assas-
sinated by Aristodicus of Tanagra. In this way was the Council
of Areopagus deprived of its guardianship of the state.

INSTITUTIONS 7u

26. After this revolution the administration of the state became
more and more lax, in consequence of the eager rivalry of candidates
for popular favour. During this period the moderate party, as it
happened, had no real chief, their leader being Cimon son of Milti-
ades, who was a comparatively young man, and also was late in
entering public life; and at the same time the mass of the people
suffered great losses by war. The soldiers for active service were
selected at that time from the roll of citizens, and as the generals
were men of no military experience, who owed their position solely
to their family standing, it continually happened that some two or
three thousand of the troops perished on an expedition; and in this
way the best men alike of the lower and the upper classes were ex-
hausted. The result was that in most matters of administration less
heed was paid to the laws than had formerly been the case. No
alteration, however, was made in the method of election of the nine
Archons, except that five years after the death of Ephialtes it was
decided that the candidates to be submitted to the lot for that office
might be selected from the Zeugitae as well as from the higher
classes. The first Archon from that class was Mnesitheides ; up to
this time all the Archons had been taken from the Pentacosiome-
dimni and Knights, while the Zeugitae were confined to the ordinary
magistracies, save where an evasion of the law was overlooked. Four
years later, in the archonship of Lysicrates, the thirty "local justices,"
as they were called, were re-established ; and two years afterwards,
in the archonship of Antidotus, in consequence of the great increase
in the number of citizens, it was resolved, on the motion of Pericles,
that no one should be admitted to the franchise who was not of citi-
zen birth by both parents.

27. After this Pericles assumed the position of popular leader,
having first distinguished himself while still a young man by prose-
cuting Cimon on the audit of his official accounts as general. Under
his auspices the constitution became still more democratic. He took
away some of the privileges of the Areopagus, and, above all, he
turned the policy of the state in the direction of naval dominion,
which caused the masses to> acquire confidence in themselves and
consequently to take the conduct of affairs more and more into their
own hands. Moreover, forty-eight years after the battle of Salamis,
in the archonship of Pythodorus, the Peloponnesian war broke out,
during which the populace was shut up in the city and became ac-
customed to gain its livelihood by military service, and so, partly

76 INSTITUTIONS

voluntarily and partly involuntarily, determined to assume the ad-
ministration of the state itself. Pericles was also the first to institute
pay for service in the law-courts, as a bid for popular favour to
counterbalance the wealth of Cimon. The latter, having private pos-
sessions of royal splendour, not only performed the regular public
services magnificently, but also maintained a large number of his
fellow-demesmen. Any member of the deme of Laciadae could go
every day to Cimon's house and there receive a reasonable provision ;
and his estate was guarded by no fences, so that anyone who liked
might help himself to the fruit from it. Pericles' private property
was quite unequal to this magnificence, and accordingly he took the
advice of Damonides of Oia (who was commonly supposed to be the
person who prompted Pericles in most of his measures, and was
therefore subsequently ostracised), which was that, as he was beaten
in the matter of private possessions, he should make presents to the
people from their own property; and accordingly he instituted pay
for the members of the juries. Some persons accuse him of thereby
causing a deterioration in the character of the juries, since it was
always the inferior people who were anxious to submit themselves
for selection as jurors, rather than the men of better position. More-
over, bribery came into existence after this, the first person to intro-
duce it being Anytus, after his command at Pylus. He was prose-
cuted by certain individuals on account of his loss of Pylus, but es-
caped by bribing the jury.

28. So long, however, as Pericles was leader of the people,
things went tolerably well with the state ; but when he was dead there
was a great change for the worse. Then for the first time did the
people choose a leader who was of no reputation among people of
good standing, whereas up to this time men of good standing were
always found as leaders of the democracy. The first leader of the
people, in the very beginning of things, was Solon, and the second
was Pisistratus, both of them men of birth and position. After the
overthrow of the tyrants there was Cleisthenes, a member of the
house of the Alcmeonidae ; and he had no rival opposed to him after
the expulsion of the party of Isagoras. After this Xanthippus was
the leader of the people, and Miltiades of the upper class. Then
came Themistocles and Aristides, and after them Ephialtes as leader
of the people, and Cimon son of Miltiades of the wealthier class.
Pericles followed as leader of the people, and Thucydides, who was
connected by marriage with Cimon, of the opposition. After the

INSTITUTIONS 77

death of Pericles, Nicias, who subsequently fell in Sicily, appeared
as leader of the aristocracy, and Cleon son of Cleaenetus as that of
the people. The latter seems, more than anyone else, to have been
the cause of the corruption of the democracy by his wild undertakings ;
and he was the first to use unseemly shouting and coarse abuse on
the Bema, and to harangue the people with his cloak girt up short
about him, whereas all his predecessors had spoken decently and in
order. These were succeeded by Theramenes son of Hagnon as
leader of the one party, and Cleophon the lyre-maker of the people.
It was Cleophon who first granted the two-obol donation for the
theatrical performances, and for some time he continued to give it;
but then Callicrates of Paeania ousted him by promising to add a third
obol to the sum. Both of these persons were subsequently con-
demned to death ; for the people, even if they are deceived for a time,
in the end generally come to detest those who have beguiled them
into any unworthy action. After Cleophon the popular leadership
was occupied successively by the men who chose to talk the biggest
and pander to the tastes of the majority, with their eyes fixed only
on the interests of the moment. The best of the statemen at Athens,
after those of early times, seem to have been Nicias, Thucydides,
and Theramenes. As to Nicias and Thucydides, nearly everyone
also statesmen, and that they acted in all their public life in a manner
worthy of their ancestry. On the merits of Theramenes opinion is
divided, because it so happened that in his time public affairs were
in a very stormy state. But those who give their opinion deliber-
ately find him, not, as his critics falsely assert, overthrowing every
kind of constitution, but supporting every kind so long as it did not
transgress the laws ; thus showing that he was able, as every good
citizen should be, to live under any form of constitution, while he
refused to countenance illegality and was its constant enemy.

29. So long as the fortune of the war continued even, the Athe-
nians preserved the democracy; but after the disaster in Sicily, when
the Lacedaemonians had gained the upper hand through their alli-
ance with the king of Persia, they were compelled to abolish the de-
mocracy and establish in its place the constitution of the Four Hun-
dred. The speech recommending this course before the vote was
made by Melobius, and the motion was drawn up by Pythodorus;
but the real argument which persuaded the majority was the belief
that the king of Persia was more likely to form an alliance with
them if they should establish an oligarchy. The motion of Pytho-

78 INSTITUTIONS

dorus was to the following effect. The popular Assembly was to
elect twenty persons, over forty years of age, who, in conjunction
with the existing ten members of the Committee of Public Safety,
should take an oath that they would frame such proposals as they
thought best for the state, and should then draw up proposals for
the public safety. In addition, any other person was free to make
any proposition he liked, so that the people might be able to choose
the best of all the courses suggested to them. Cleitophon concurred
with the motion of Pythodorus, but proposed that the committee
should also investigate the ancient laws drawn up by Cleisthenes
when he created the democracy, in order that they might have these
too before them before deciding on what was the best ; his suggestion
being that the constitution of Cleisthenes was not really democratical,
but closely akin to that of Solon. When the committee was elected,
their first proposal was that the Prytanes should be compelled to put
to the vote any motion that was offered on behalf of the public safety.
Next they abolished all indictments for illegal proposals, all impeach-
ments and public prosecutions, in order that every Athenian should
be free to give his counsel on the situation, if he chose; and they
decreed that if any person imposed a fine on any other for his acts
in this respect, or prosecuted him or summoned him before the
courts, he should, on an information being laid against him, be sum-
marily arrested and brought before the generals, who should deliver
him to the Eleven to be put to death. After these preliminary meas-
ures, they drew up the constitution in the following manner. The
revenues of the state were not to be spent on any purpose except
the war. All magistrates should serve without remuneration, so
long as the war should last, except the nine Archons and the Pry-
tanes for the time being, who should each receive three obols a day.
The general franchise was to be committed, so long as the war should
last, to all Athenians who were most capable of serving the state per-
sonally or pecuniarily, to the number of not less than five thousand.
This body was to have full powers, to the extent even of making"
treaties with whomsoever they willed; and ten men, over forty years
of age, were to be elected out of each tribe to draw up the list of the
Five Thousand, after taking an oath on a full and perfect sacrifice.

30. These were the proposals put forward by the committee;
and when they had been ratified the Five Thousand elected from their
own number a hundred commissioners to draw up the constitution.
They, on their appointment, drew up and produced the following

INSTITUTIONS 79

propositions. There should be a Council, holding office for a year,
consisting of men over thirty years of age, serving without pay. To
this body should belong the Generals, the nine Archons, the Amphic-
tyonic Register [Hieromnemon], the Taxiarchs, the Hipparchs, the
Phylarchs, the commanders of garrisons, the Treasurers of Athena
and the other gods, ten in number, the Hellenic Treasurers [Hellen-
otamiae], the Treasurers of the other non-sacred moneys, to the
number of twenty, the ten Commissioners of Sacrifices [Hieropoei]
and the ten Superintendents of the mysteries. All these were to be
appointed from a larger number of selected candidates, chosen from
the members of the Council for the time being. The other offices
were all to be filled by lot, and not from the members of the Council.
The Hellenic Treasurers who actually administered the funds were
not to be members of the Council. As regards the future, four
Councils were to be created, of men of the age already mentioned,
and one of these was to be chosen by lot to take office at once, while
the others were to receive it in turn, in the order decided by the lot.
For this purpose the hundred commissioners were to distribute them-
selves and the other three hundred as equally as possible into four
parts, and cast lots for precedence, and the selected body should hold
office for a year. They were to administer that office as seemed to
them best, both with reference to the safe custody and due expendi-
ture of the finances, and generally with all other matters to the best
of their ability. If they desired to take a larger number of persons
into counsel, each member might call in one assistant of his own
choice, subject to the same qualification of age. The Council was
to sit once every five days, unless there was any special need for
more frequent sittings. The casting of the lot for the Council was
to be held by the nine Archons ; votes on divisions were to be counted
by five persons chosen by lot from the members of the Council, and
of these one was to be selected by lot every day to act as president.
These five persons were to cast lots for precedence between the par-
ties wishing to appear before the Council, giving the first place to
sacred matters, the second to heralds, the third to embassies, and the
fourth to all other subjects; but matters concerning the war might
be dealt with, on the motion of the generals, whenever there was need,
without balloting. Any member of the Council who did not enter
the Council-house at the time named should be fined a drachma for
each day, unless he was away on leave of absence from the Council.
31. Such was the constitution which they drew up for the time

80 INSTITUTIONS

to come, but for the immediate present they devised the following
scheme. There should be a Council of Four Hundred, as in the an-
cient constitution, forty from each tribe, chosen out of candidates of
more than thirty years of age, selected by the members of the tribes.
This Council should appoint the magistrates and draw up the form
of oath which they were to take ; and in all that concerned the laws,
in the examination of official accounts, and in other matters gener-
ally, it might act according to its discretion. It must, however, ob-
serve the laws that might be enacted with reference to the constitu-
tion of the state, and had no power to alter them nor to pass others.
The generals should be provisionally elected from the whole body of
the Five Thousand, but so soon as the Council came into existence
it was to hold an examination of military equipments, and thereon
elect ten persons, together with a secretary, and the persons thus
elected should hold office during the coming year with full powers,
and should have the right, whenever they desired it, of joining in the
deliberations of the Council. The Five Thousand was also to elect
a single Hipparch and ten Phylarchs; but for the future the Council
was to elect these officers according to the regulations above laid
down. Neither these offices nor any others, except those of member
of the Council and of General, might be held more than once, either
by the first occupants or by their successors. With reference to the
future distribution of the Four Hundred into the four successive sec-
tions, the hundred commissioners must divide them whenever the
citizens shall be admitted to a share in the Council along with the
rest.

32. The hundred commissioners appointed by the Five Thous-
and drew up the constitution as just stated ; and after it had been rati-
fied by the general voice, under the presidency of Aristomachus, the
Council was dissolved before it had completed its term of office. It
was dissolved on the fourteenth day of the month Thargelion, in the
archonship of Callias, and the Four Hundred entered into office on
the twenty-first; whereas the regular Council, elected by lot, ought
to have entered into office on the fourteenth of Scirophodion. Thus
was the oligarchy established, in the archonship of Callias, just about
a hundred years after the expulsion of the tyrants. The chief pro-
moters of the revolution were Pisander, Antiphon, and Theramenes,
all of them men of good birth and with high reputations for ability
and judgment. When, however, this constitution had been estab-
lished, the Five Thousand were only nominally selected, and the Four

INSTITUTIONS 81

Hundred, together with the ten officers on whom full powers had
been conferred, occupied the Council-house arid really administered
the government. They began by sending ambassadors to the Lace-
daemonians proposing a cessation of the war on the terms of the
status quo; but as the Lacedaemonians refused to listen to them
unless they would also abandon their maritime empire, they aban-
doned the negotiations.

33. For about four months the constitution of the Four Hun-
dred continued, and Mnasilochus held office as Archon of their nom-
ination for two months of the year of Theopompus, who was Archon
for the remaining ten. After the loss of the naval battle of Eretria,
however, and the revolt of the whole of Euboea except Oreum, the
indignation of the people was greater than at any of the earlier dis-
asters, since they drew far more supplies at this time from Euboea
than from Attica itself. Accordingly they deposed the Four Hun-
dred and committed the management of affairs to the Five Thousand,
who consisted of persons possessing a military equipment. At the
same time they voted that pay should not be given for any public
office. The persons chiefly responsible for the revolution were Aris-
tocrates and Theramenes, who disapproved of the action of the Four
Hundred in retaining the direction of affairs entirely in their own
hands, and referring nothing to the Five Thousand. The constitu-
tion of the state seems to have been admirable during this period,
since it was a time of war and the franchise was in the hands of those
who possessed a military equipment.

34. The people, however, in a very short time deprived the Five
Thousand of their monopoly of the franchise. Then, six years after
the overthrow of the Four Hundred, in the archonship of Callias of
Angele, the battle of Arginusae took place, of which the results were,
first, that the ten generals who had gained the victory were all con-
demned by a single vote, owing to the people being led astray by
persons who aroused their indignation; though, as a matter of fact,
some of the generals had actually taken no part in the battle, and
others were themselves picked up by other vessels. Secondly, when
the Lacedaemonians proposed to evacuate Decelea and make peace
on terms of the status quo, although some of the Athenians supported
this proposal, the majority refused to listen to them. In this they
were led astray by Cleophon, who appeared in the 'Assembly drunk
and wearing his breast-plate, and prevented peace being made, de-
claring that he would never accept peace unless the Lacedaemonians

82 INSTITUTIONS

abandoned their claims on all the cities allied with them. They mis-
managed their opportunity then, and in a very short time they learnt
their mistake. The next year, in the archonship of Alexias, they
suffered the disaster of Aegospotami, the result of which was that
Lysander became master of the city, and set up the Thirty as its gov-
ernors. He did so in the following manner. One of the terms of
peace stipulated that the state should be governed according to "the
ancient constitution." Accordingly the popular party tried to pre-
serve the democracy, while that part of the upper class which be-
longed to the political clubs, together with the exiles who had re-
turned since the peace, desired an oligarchy, and those who were not
members of any club, though in other respects they held a position
in the state inferior to none, were anxious to restore the ancient con-
stitution. The latter class included Archinus, Anytus, Cleitophon,
Phormisius, and many others, but their most prominent leader was
Theramenes. Lysander, however, threw his influence on the side of
the oligarchical party, and the popular Assembly was compelled by
sheer intimidation to pass a vote establishing the oligarchy. The
motion to this effect was proposed by Dracontides of Aphidna.

35. In this way were the Thirty established in power, in the
archonship of Pythodorus. As soon, however, as they were masters
of the city, they ignored all the votes which had been passed relating
to the organization of the constitution, but appointed a Council of Five
Hundred and the other magistrates out of the thousand selected can-
didates, associated with themselves ten archons in Piraeus, eleven su-
perintendents of the prison, and three hundred "lash bearers" as at-
tendants, and with the help of these they kept the city under their con-
trol. At first, indeed, they behaved with moderation towards the citi-
zens and pretended to administer the state according to the ancient
constitution. In pursuance of this policy they took down from the
hill of Areopagus the laws of Ephialtes and Archestratus relating to
the Areopagite Council; they also repealed such of the statutes of
Solon as were obscure, and abolished the supreme power of the law-
courts. In this they claimed to be restoring the constitution and free-
ing it from obscurities ; as, for instance, by making the testator free
once for all to leave his property as he pleased, and abolishing the
existing limitations in cases of insanity, old age, and undue female
influence, in order that no opening might be left for professional ac-
cusers. In other matters also their conduct was similar. At first, then,
they acted on these lines, and they destroyed the professional accusers

INSTITUTIONS 83

and those mischievous and evil-minded persons who, to the great detri-
ment of the democracy, had attached themselves to it in order to curry
favour wkh it. With all of this the city Was much pleased, and
thought that the Thirty did it with the best of motives. But so soon
as they had got a firmer hold on the city, they spared no class of citi-
zens, but put to death any persons who were eminent for wealth or
birth and character. Herein they aimed at removing all whom they
had reason to fear, and they also wished to lay hands on their pos-
sessions; and in a short time they put to death not less than fifteen
hundred persons.

36. Theramenes, however, seeing the city thus falling into ruin,
was displeased with their proceedings, and counselled them to cease
such unprincipled conduct and let the better classes have a share in
the government. At first they opposed his suggestions, but when his
proposals came to be known abroad, and the masses began to be on
friendly terms with him, they were seized with alarm lest he should
make himself a popular leader and destroy their despotic power. Ac-
cordingly they drew up a list of three thousand citizens, to whom
they proposed to give a sharfc in the constitution. Theramenes, how-
ever, criticised this scheme also, first on the ground that, while pro-
posing to give all the respectable classes a share in the constitution,
they were actually giving it only to three thousand persons, as if all
merit were confined within that number ; and secondly because they
were doing two inconsistent things, since they made the government
rest on the basis of force, and yet made the governors inferior in
strength to the governed. However, they took no notice of his criti-
cisms, and for a long time put off the publication of the list of the
Three Thousand and kept to themselves the names of those who had
been placed on it; and whenever they did decide to publish it they
proceeded to strike out some of those who had been included in it,
and insert others from outside.

37. Now when winter had set in, Thrasybulus and the exiles
occupied Phyle, and the force which the Thirty led out to attack them
met with a reverse. Thereupon the Thirty decided to disarm the
bulk of the population and to get rid of Theramenes ; which they did
in the following way. They introduced two laws into the Council,
which they commanded it to pass ; the first of them gave the Thirty
absolute power to put to death any citizen who was not included in
the list of the Three Thousand, while the second incapacitated all
persons from participation in the franchise who should have assisted

84 INSTITUTIONS

in the demolition of the fort of Eetioneia, or have acted in any way
against the Four Hundred or against those who had organized the
previous oligarchy. Theramenes had done both, and accordingly,
when these laws were ratified, he became excluded from the franchise
and the Thirty had full power to put him to death. Theramenes having
been thus removed, they disarmed all the people except the Three
Thousand, and in every respect showed a great advance in cruelty
and crime. They also sent ambassadors to Lacedaemon to blacken
the character of Theramenes and to ask for help ; and the Lacedaemo-
nians, in answer to their appeal, sent Callibius as harmost with about
seven hundred troops, who came and occupied the Acropolis.

38. These events were followed by the occupation of Munychia
by the exiles from Phyle, and their victory over the Thirty and their
partisans. After the fight the party of the city retreated, and next day
they held a meeting in the market-place and deposed the Thirty, and
elected ten citizens, on whom they conferred full powers to bring the
war to a termination. When, however, the Ten had taken over the
government they did nothing towards the object for which they were
elected, but sent envoys to Lacedaemon to ask for help and to borrow
money. Further, finding that those who possessed the franchise were
displeased at their propeedings, they were afraid lest they should be
deposed, and consequently, in order to strike terror into them (in
which design they succeeded), they arrested . . emaretus, one of the
most eminent citizens, and put him to death. This gave them a firm
hold on the government, and they also had the support of Callibius
and his Peloponnesians, together with several of the Knights; for
some of the members of this class were the most zealous among the
citizens to prevent the return of the exiles from Phyle. When, how-
ever, the exiles in Piraeus and Munychia began to gain the upper hand
in the war, through the defection of the whole people to them, the
party in the city deposed the original Ten, and elected another Ten,
consisting of the men who possessed the highest character. Under
their administration, and with their active and zealous co-operation,
the treaty of reconciliation was made and the democracy returned to
the city. The most prominent members of this board were Rhinon
of Paeania and Phayllus of Acherdus, who, even before the arrival of
Pausanias, opened negotiations with the party in Piraeus, and after
his arrival seconded his efforts to bring about the return of the exiles.
For it was Pausanias, the king of the Lacedaemonians, who brought
the peace and reconciliation to a fulfilment, in conjunction with the

INSTITUTIONS 85

ten commissioners of arbitration who arrived later from Lacedaemon,
chiefly at his earnest request. Rhinon and his colleagues received a
vote of thanks for the good will shown by them to the democracy,
and though they received their charge under an oligarchy and handed
in their accounts under a democracy, no one, either of the party that
had stayed in the city or of the exiles that had returned from the
Piraeus, brought any complaint against them. On the contrary,
Rhinon was immediately elected general on account of his conduct
in this office.

39. The following were the terms on which the reconciliation
was effected, in the archonship of Eucleides. All persons who, having
remained in the city during the troubles, were now anxious to leave
it, were to be free to settle at Eleusis, retaining their civil rights and
possessing full and independent powers of self-government, and with
the free enjoyment of their own personal property. The temple at
Eleusis should be common ground for both parties, and should be
under the superintendence of the Ceryces and the Eumolpidae, accord-
ing to primitive custom. The settlers at Eleusis should not be allowed
to enter Athens, nor the people of Athens to enter Eleusis, except at
the season of the mysteries, when both parties should be free from
these restrictions. The secessionists should pay their share to the
fund for the common defence out of their revenues, just like all the
other Athenians. If any of the seceding party wished to take a house
in Eleusis, the people would help them to obtain the consent of the
owner ; but if they could not come to terms, they should appoint three
valuers on either side, and the owner should receive whatever price
they should appoint. Of the inhabitants of Eleusis, those whom the
secessionists wished to remain should be allowed to do so. The list
of those who desired to secede should be made up within seven days
after the taking of the oaths in the case of persons already in the
country, and their actual departure should take place within twenty
days ; persons at present out of the country should have the same terms
allowed to them after their return. No one who settled at Eleusis
should be capable of holding any office in Athens until he should again
be inscribed on the roll as a resident in the city. Trials for homicide
should be conducted according to the primitive fashion, which re-
quired that any person who killed another should pay a penalty, which
he consecrated to the gods. There should be an universal amnesty
concerning past events towards all persons, except the Thirty, the
Ten, the Eleven, and the magistrates in Piraeus ; and these too should

86 INSTITUTIONS

be included if they should submit their accounts in the usual way.
Such accounts should be given by the magistrates in Piraeus for all
matters coming within the limits of Piraeus, and by the magistrates
in the city for all that came within the limits of the city. On these
terms those who wished to do so might secede. Each party was to
repay separately the money which it had borrowed for the war.

40. When the reconciliation had taken place on these terms,
those who had fought on the side of the Thirty felt considerable ap-
prehensions, and a large number intended to secede. But as they put
off entering their names till the last moment, as people will do, Archi-
nus, observing their numbers, and being anxious to retain them as
citizens, cut off the remaining days during which the list should have
remained open; and in this way many persons were compelled to re-
main, though they were very unwilling to do so until they recovered
confidence. This is one point in which Archinus appears to have
acted in a most statesmanlike manner, and another was his prosecu-
tion of Thrasybulus on the charge of illegality, for a motion by which
he proposed to confer the franchise on all who had taken part in the
return from Piraeus, although some of them were notoriously slaves.
And yet a third such action was when one of the returned exiles began
to violate the amnesty, whereupon Archinus haled him to the Council
and persuaded them to execute him without trial, telling them that
now they had an opportunity of showing whether they wished to pre-
serve the democracy and abide by the oaths they had taken ; for if they
let this man escape they would encourage others to imitate him, while
if they executed him they would set an example to all men. And this
was exactly what happened ; for after this man had been put to death
no one ever again broke the amnesty. On the contrary, the Athe-
nians, seem, both in public and in private, to have behaved in the most
unprecedentedly admirable and public-spirited way with reference to
the preceding troubles. Not only did they blot out all memory of
former offenses, but they even repaid to the Lacedaemonians out of
the public purse the money which the Thirty had borrowed for the
war, although the treaty required each party, the party of the city and
the party of Piraeus, to pay its own debts separately. This they did
because they thought it was a necessary first step in the direction of
restoring harmony; but in other states, so far from the democratic
parties making advances from their own possessions, they rather make
a general re-distribution of the land. A further reconciliation was
made with the secessionists at Elewsis two years after the secession.

INSTITUTIONS 87

in the archonship of Xenaenetus.

41. This, however, took place at a later date ; at the time of which
we are speaking the people, having secured the control of the state,
established the constitution which exists at the present day. Pytho-
dorus was archon at the time, but the democracy seems to have as-
sumed the supreme power with perfect justice, since it had effected its
own return by its own exertions. This was the eleventh change which
had taken place in the constitution of Athens. First of all came the
original establishment by Ion and those who assisted him in forming
the settlement, when the people was first divided into the four tribes,
and the tribe-kings were created. Next, and the first organization of
the constitution following this, was that which took place in the reign
of Theseus, consisting in a slight deviation from absolute monarchy.
After this came the constitution formed under Draco, when the first
code of laws was drawn up. The third was that which followed the
civil war, in the time of Solon ; from this the democracy took its rise.
The fourth was the tyranny of Pisistratus ; the fifth the constitution
of Cleisthenes, after the overthrow of the tyrants, of a more democratic
character than that of Solon. The sixth was that which followed on
the Persian wars, when the Council of Areopagus had the direction of
the state. The seventh, succeeding this, was the constitution which
Aristides sketched out, and which Ephialtes brought to completion
by overthrowing the Areopagite Council ; under this the nation, misled
by the demagogues, made the most serious mistakes on account of
its maritime empire. The eighth was the establishment of the Four
Hundred, followed by the ninth, the restored democracy. The tenth
was the tyranny of the Thirty and the Ten. The eleventh was that
which followed the return from Phyle and Piraeus ; and this has con-
tinued from that day to this, with continual accretions of power to the
masses. The democracy has made itself master of everything and
administers everything by its votes in the Assembly and by the law-
courts, in which it holds the supreme power. Even the jurisdiction
of the Council has passed into the hands of the people at large; and
this appears to be a judicious change, since small bodies are more
open to corruption, whether by actual money or by influence, than
large ones. At first they refused to allow payment for attendance at
the Assembly ; but the result was that people did not attend, and often
votes were passed by the Prytanes alone. Consequently, in order to
induce the populace to come and ratify the votes, Agyrrhius, in the
first instance, made a provision of one obol a day, which Heracleides

88 INSTITUTIONS

of Clazomenae, nicknamed "the king," increased to two obols, and

Agyrrhius again to three.

42. The present state of the constitution is as follows. The
franchise is open to all who are of citizen-birth by both parents. They
are enrolled among the demesmen at the age of eighteen. On the
occasion of their enrolment the demesmen give their votes on oath, first
as to whether they appear to be of the age prescribed by the law (if
not, they are dismissed back into the ranks of the boys), and secondly
as to whether the candidate is free born and of such parentage as the
law requires. Then if they decide that he is not a free man, he appeals
to the law-courts, and the demesmen appoint five of their own number
to act as accusers ; and if the court decides that he has no right to be
enrolled, he is sold by the state as a slave, but if he wins his case he
has a right to be enrolled among the demesmen without further ques-
tion. After this the Council examines those who have been enrolled,
and if it comes to the conclusion that any of them is less than eighteen
years of age, it fines the demesmen who enrolled him. When the
youths [Ephebi] have passed this examination, their fathers meet by
their tribes, and appoint on oath three of their fellow tribesmen, over
forty years of age, who, in their opinion, are the best and most suitable
persons to have charge of the youths; and of these the Assembly
elects one from each tribe as guardian, together with a superintendent,
chosen from the general body of Athenians, to control the whole.
These persons take charge of the youths, and first of all they make the
circuit of the temples ; then they proceed to Piraeus, and some of them
garrison Munychia and some the south shore. The Assembly also
elects two trainers, with subordinate instructors, who teach them to
fight in heavy armour, to use the bow and javelin, and to discharge a
catapult. The guardians receive from the state a drachma apiece for
their keep, and the youths four obols apiece. Each guardian receives
the allowance for all the members of his tribe and buys the necessary
provisions for the common stock (since they mess together by tribes),
and generally superintends everything. In this way they spend the
first year. The next year, when the Assembly is held in the theatre,
after giving a public display of their military evolutions, they receive
a shield and spear from the state ; after which they patrol the country
and spend their time in the forts. For these two years they are on
garrison duty, and wear the military cloak, and during this time they
are exempt from all taxes. They also can neither bring an action
at law, nor have one brought against them, in order that they may

INSTITUTIONS , 80

not be mixed up in civil business ; though exception is made rfi cases
of actions concerning inheritances and wards of state, or of any sac-
rificial ceremony connected with the clan of any individual. When
the two years have elapsed they at once take their position among the
other citizens. Such is the manner of the enrolment of the citizens
and the training of the youths.

43. All the magistrates that are concerned with the ordinary
routine of administration are elected by lot, except the Military Treas-
urer, the Commissioners of the Theoric fund, and the Superintendent
of Springs. These are elected by vote, and the magistrates thus
elected hold office from one Panathenaic festival to another. All
military officers are also elected by vote. The Council of Five Hun-
dred is elected by lot, fifty from each tribe. Each tribe holds the
office of Prytanes in turn, the order being determined by lot ; the first
four serve for thirty-six days each, the last six for thirty-five, since the
reckoning is by lunar years. The Prytanes for the time being, in the
first place, mess together in the Tholus, and receive a sum of money
from the state for their maintenance; and, secondly, they convene
the meetings of the Council and the Assembly. The Council they
convene every day, unless it is a holiday, the Assembly four times in
each prytany. It is also their duty to draw up the programme of the
matters with which the Council has to deal, and to decide what sub-
jects are to be dealt with on each particular day, and what are not
within its competence. They also draw up the programme for the
meetings of the Assembly. The first of these in each prytany is called
the "sovereign" Assembly; in this the people have to vote on the
question whether the magistrates are performing their duties properly,
and to consider the supply of corn and the defence of the country.
On this day, too, impeachments are introduced by those who wish
to do so, the lists of property confiscated by the state are read, and
also applications for inheritances and wards of state, so that nothing
may pass without the cognizance of any person concerned. In the
sixth prytany, in addition to the business just stated, the question is
also put to the vote whether it is desirable to hold a vote of ostracism
or not; and complaints against professional accusers, whether Ath-
enian or aliens domiciled in Athens, are received, to the number of
not more than three of either class, together with cases in which an
individual has made some promise to the people and has not per-
formed it. The second Assembly of the prytany is assigned to sup-
pliants, and at this meeting anyone is free, on depositing the sup-

V 2-6

90 INSTITUTIONS

pliant's olive branch, to speak to the people concerning any matter,
public or private. The two other meetings are occupied with the re-
maining subjects, and the laws require them to deal with three ques-
tions connected with religion, three connected with heralds and em-
bassies, and three on secular subjects. Sometimes questions are
brought forward without the Assembly first voting them precedence.
Heralds and envoys appear first before the Prytanes, and the bearers
of despatches also deliver them to the same officials.

44. There is a single President of the Prytanes, elected by lot,
who presides for a night and a day; he may not hold the office for
more than that time, nor may the same individual hold it twice. He
keeps the keys of the sanctuaries in which the treasures and public
records of the state are preserved, and also the public seal ; and he is
bound to remain in the Tholus, together with one third of the Pry-
tanes, named by himself. Whenever the Prytanes convene a meeting
of the Council or Assembly, he appoints by lot nine Proedri, one from
each tribe except that which holds the office of Prytanes for the time
being; and out of these nine he similarly appoints one as President,
and hands over the programme for the meeting to them. They take
it and see to the preservation of order, and put forward the various
subjects which are to be considered, decide the results of the votings,
and direct the proceedings generally. They also have power to dis-
miss the meeting. No one may act as President more than once in
the year, but he may be a Proedrus once in each prytany. Elections
to the offices of General and Hipparch and all other military posts are
held in the Assembly, in such manner as the people decide ; and they
are held after the sixth prytany by the first board of Prytanes in whose
term of office the omens are favourable. There has, however, to be
a preliminary consideration by the Council in this case also.

45. In former times the Council had full powers to inflict fines
and imprisonment and death ; and it was when it had dragged off Ly-
simachus to the executioner, and he was sitting in the immediate ex-
pectation of death, that Eumeleides of Alopece deprived it of its pow-
ers, maintaining that no citizen ought to be put to death except after
a hearing by a court of law. Accordingly there was a trial in a law-
court, and L'ysimachus was acquitted, receiving henceforth the nick-
name of "the man from the drum-head" ; and the people deprived the
Council thenceforth of the power to inflict death or imprisonment or
fine, passing a law that if the Council condemn any person for an

INSTITUTIONS 91

offence or inflict a fine, the Thesmothetae shall bring the sentence or
fine before the law-court, and the decision of the jurors shall be the
final judgment in the matter. The Council passes judgment on nearly
all magistrates, especially those who have the control of money; its
judgment, however, is not final, but is subject to an appeal to the law-
courts. Private individuals, also, may impeach any magistrate they
please for not obeying the laws, but here too there is an appeal to the
law-courts if the Council declare the charge proved. The Council
also examines those who are to be its members for the ensuing year,
and also the nine Archons. Formerly the Council had full power to
reject candidates for office as unsuitable, but now these too have an
appeal to the law-courts. In all these matters, therefore, the Council
has no final jurisdiction. It has, however, a preliminary consideration
of all matters brought before the Assembly, and the Assembly cannot
vote on any question unless it has first been considered by the Council
and placed on the programme by the Prytanes ; since a person who
carries a motion in the Assembly is liable to an action for illegal pro-
posal on these grounds.

46. The Council also superintends the triremes that are already
in existence, with their tackle and sheds, and builds new triremes or
quadriremes, whichever the Assembly votes, with tackle and sheds to
match. The Assembly appoints master-builders for the ships by vote ;
and if they do not hand them over completed to the next Council, the
old Council cannot receive the customary donation, — that being nor-
mally given to it during its successor's term of office. For the build-
ing of the triremes it appoints ten ship-builders, chosen out of the
whole body qf the people. The Council also inspects all public build-
ings, and if it is of opinion that the state is being defrauded, it reports
the culprit to the Assembly, and after itself condemning him hands
him over to the law-courts.

47. The Council also co-operates with the other magistrates in
most of their duties. First there are the treasurers of Athena, ten in
number, elected by lot, one from each tribe. According to the law
of Solon — which is still in force — they must be Pentacosiomedimni,
but in point of fact the person on whom the lot falls holds the office
even though he be quite a poor man. These officers take over charge
of the statue of Athena, the figures of Victory and all the other orna-
ments of the temple, together with the money, in the presence of the
Council. Then there are the Commissioners for Public Contracts
[Poletae], ten in number, one elected by lot from each tribe. These

92 INSTITUTIONS

officers farm out the public contracts and lease the mines, and, in con-
junction with the military treasurer and the commissioners of the The-
oric fund, confirm the farming out of taxes, in the presence of the
Council, to the persons whom the latter appoints. They also lease,
in the presence of the Council, such workable mines as are let out by
the state, which are let for three years, and the concessions which are
let for [three] years, and also the property of those who have gone
into exile from a sentence of the Areopagus, and of state-debtors ; and
the nine Archons ratify the contracts. They also hand over to the
Council lists of the taxes which are farmed out for the year, entering
on whitened tablets the name of the lessee and the amount paid. They
make separate lists, first of those who have to pay their instalments
in each prytany, on "ten several tablets, next of those who pay at the
end of the year, with a separate tablet for each instalment, and finally
of those who pay in the ninth prytany. They also draw up a list of
farms and dwellings which are leased or farmed out, and place it in
the law-court ; for these too come within their province. In the case
of dwellings the value must be paid up in five years, and in that of
farms, in ten. The instalments are paid in the ninth prytany. Fur-
ther, the King-archon brings before the Council the leases of the
sacred enclosures, written on whitened tablets. These too are leased
for ten years, and the instalments are paid in the [ninth] prytany;
consequently it is in this prytany that the greatest amount of money *
is collected. The tablets containing the lists of the instalments are
carried into the Council, and the public clerk takes charge of them.
Whenever a payment of instalments is to be made he delivers to the
Receivers-General the precise columns containing the sums which are
to be paid and struck off on that day. The rest are kept apart, in
order that no sum may be struck off before it is paid.

48. There are ten Receivers-General [Apodectae], elected by lot,
one from each tribe. These officers receive the tablets, and strike off
the instalments as they are paid, in the presence of the Council in the
Council-chamber, and give the tablets back to the public clerk. If
anyone fails to pay his instalment, a note is made of it from this record,
together with the cause ; and he is bound to make good the deficiency,
or, in default, to be imprisoned. The Council has full power by
the laws to exact these payments and to inflict this imprisonment.
They receive the money, therefore, on one day, and portion it out
among the magistrates ; and on the next day they bring up the report
of the apportionment, written on a wooden notice-board, and read it

INSTITUTIONS S3

out in the Council-chamber, and after which they ask publicly in the
Council whether anyone knows of any malpractice in reference to the
apportionment, on the part of either a magistrate or a private individ-
ual, and if anyone is charged with malpractice they put the question
to the vote.

The Council also elects ten Auditors [Logistae] by lot from its
own members, to audit the accounts of the magistrates for each pry-
tany. They also elect one Examiner of Accounts [Euthunus] by lot
from each tribe, with two assessors [Paredri] for each examiner,
whose duty it is to sit in the market-place, each opposite the statue of
the eponymous hero of his tribe ; and if anyone wishes, on the ground
of some private difference, to question the accounts of any magistrate
who has given in his accounts before the law-courts, within three days
of his having given them in, the assessor enters on a whitened tablet
the name of this person and that of the magistrate prosecuted, to-
gether with the malpractice that is alleged against him. Then he
enters his claim for a penalty of such amount as seems to him fitting,
and gives in the record to the Examiner. The latter takes it and
hears the charge, and if he considers it proved he hands it over, if a
private case, to the local justices who introduce cases for the tribe
concerned, while if a public case he enters it on the register of the
Thesmothetae. Then, if the Thesmothetae accept it, they bring the
accounts of this magistrate once more before the law-court, and the
decision of the jury stands as the final judgment.

49. The Council also examines the horses belonging to the state.
• If it finds one which, though sound will not go well, it mulcts it of
some of its corn ; while those which cannot go or which will not obey
the rein, it brands' with a wheel on the jaw, and the horse so marked
is disqualified for service. It also examines those who appear to be
fit for service as couriers, and anyone whom it rejects is deprived of
his horse. It also examines the unmounted couriers, and anyone
whom it rejects ceases to receive his pay. The roll of the cavalry is
drawn up by the Commissioners of Enrolment [Catalogeis], ten in
number, elected by the Assembly by open vote. They hand over to
the Hipparchs and Phylarchs the list of those whom they have en-
rolled, and these officers take it and bring it up before the Council,
and there open the tablet in which the names of the cavalry are sealed
up. If any of those who have been on the roll previously make affi-
davit that they are physically incapable of cavalry service, they
strike them out; then they call up the persons newly enrolled, and

94 INSTITUTIONS

if anyone makes affidavit that he is either physically or pecuniarily
incapable of cavalry service they dismiss him, but if no such affidavit
is made the Council votes whether the individual in question is suit-
able for the purpose or not. If they vote in the affirmative his name
is entered on the tablet; if not, he is dismissed with the others.

Formerly the Council used to decide on the plans for public build-
ings and the contract for making the robe of Athena ; but now this
work is done by a jury in the law-courts appointed by lot, since the
Council was considered to have shown favouritism in its decisions.
The Council also has a share in the superintendence of the manufacture
of the images of Victory and the prizes at the Panathenaic festival, in
conjunction with the Military Treasurer.

The Council also examines infirm paupers; for there is a law
which enacts that persons possessing less than three minas, who are
so crippled as not to be able to do any work, are, after examination
by the Council, to receive two obols a day from the state for their sup-
port. A treasurer is appointed by lot to attend to them.

The Council also, speaking broadly, co-operates in most of the
duties of all the other magistrates ; and this ends the list of the func-
tions of that body.

50. There are ten Commissioners for Repairs of Temples, elected
by lot, who receive a sum of thirty minas from the Receivers-General,
and therewith carry out the most necessary repairs in the temples.

There are also ten City Commissioners [Astynomi], of whom
five hold office in Piraeus and five in the city. Their duty is to see that
female flute- and harp- and lute-players are not hired at more than
two drachmas, and if more than one person is anxious to hire the
same girl, they cast lots and hire her out to the person to whom the
lot falls. They also provide that no collector of sewage shall shoot
any of his sewage within ten stadia of the walls ; they prevent people
from blocking up the streets by building, or stretching barriers across
them, or making drain-pipes in mid-air so as to pour their contents
into the street, or having doors which open outwards; and they re-
move the corpses of those who die in the streets, for which purpose
they have a body of state slaves assigned to them.

51. Market Commissioners [Agoranomi] are elected by lot, five
for Piraeus, five for the city. The duty assigned to them by law is
to see that all articles offered for sale in the market are pure and un-
adulterated.

Commissioners of Weights and Measures [Metronomi] are elect-

INSTITUTIONS 95

«d by lot, five for the city, and five for Piraeus. They see that sellers
use fair weights and measures.

F'ormerly there were five Corn Commissioners [Sitophylaces],
elected by lot, for Piraeus, and five for the city; but now there are
twenty for the city and fifteen for Piraeus. Their duties are, first, to
see that the unprepared corn in the market is offered for sale at reas-
onable prices, and secondly to see that the millers sell barley meal at
a price proportionate to that of barley, and that the bakers sell their
loaves at a price proportionate to that of wheat, and of such weight
as the Commissioners may appoint; for the law requires them to fix
the standard weight.

There are ten Superintendents of the Mart, elected by lot, whose
duty is to superintend the Mart, and to compel merchants to bring
up into the city two-thirds of the corn which is brought by sea to the
Corn Mart.

52. The Eleven also are appointed by lot to take care of those
who are in the state gaol. Thieves, kidnappers, and pickpockets are
brought to them, and if they plead guilty they are executed, but if
they deny their crime the Eleven bring the case before the law-courts ;
if the prisoners are acquitted, they release them, but if not, they exe-
cute them. They also bring up before the law-courts the list of farms
and houses claimed as state-property; and if it is decided that they
are so, they deliver them to the Commissioners for Public Contracts.
The Eleven also bring up informations laid against magistrates al-
leged to be disqualified; this function comes within their province,
but some such cases are brought up by the Thesmothetae.

There are also five Introducers of Cases [Eisagogeis], one for
each pair of tribes, who bring up the "monthly" cases to the law-
courts. "Monthly" cases are these ; refusal to pay up a dowry where
a party is bound to do so, refusal to pay interest on money borrowed
at 12 per cent., or where a man desirous of setting up business in the
market has borrowed from another man capital to start with; also
cases of slander, cases arising out of clubs or partnerships, and cases
concerned with slaves, cattle, the office of trierarch, or with banks.
These are brought up as "monthly" cases and are heard by these
officers ; but the Receivers-General perform the same function in cases
for or against the farmers of taxes. Those in which the sum con-
cerned is not more than ten drachmas they can decide summarily, but
all-above that amount they report to the law-courts as "monthly" cases.

53. Forty persons are also elected by lot, four from each tribe,

96 INSTITUTIONS

before whom suitors bring all other cases. Formerly they were thirty
in number, and they went on circuit through the demes to hear causes ;
but after the oligarchy of the Thirty they were increased to forty.
They have full powers to deal with cases in which the damages claimed
do not exceed ten drachmas, but anything beyond that amount they
hand over to the Arbitrators. The Arbitrators take up the case, and,
if they cannot bring the parties to an agreement, they give a decision.
If their decision satisfies both parties, and they abide by it, the case
is at an end ; but if either of the parties appeals to the law-courts, the
Arbitrators enclose the evidence, the pleadings, and the laws quoted
in the one, and those of the defendant in the other. These they seal
up and, having attached to them the decision of the arbitrator, written
out on a tablet, hand them over to the justices whose function it is to
introduce cases on behalf of the tribe of the defendant. These offi-
cers take them and bring up the case before the law-court, to a jury
of two hundred and one members in cases up to the value of a thous-
and drachmas, or to one of four hundred and one in cases above that
value. No laws or pleadings or evidence may be used except those
which were adduced before the Arbitrator, and which have been en-
closed in the urns.

The Arbitrators are persons of sixty years of age, as is clear from
the Archons and the Eponymi. There are two classes of Eponymi,
the ten who give their names to the tribes, and the forty-two of the
years of service. The names of the youths, on being enrolled among
the citizens, were formerly inscribed upon whitened tablets, and the
names were appended of the Archon in whose year they were enrolled,
and of the Eponymus who had been in course in the preceding year;
at the present day they are written on a bronze pillar, which stands
in front of the Council-chamber, near the Eponymi of the tribes. Then
the Forty take the last of the Eponymi of the years of service, and
assign the arbitrations to the persons belonging to that year, casting
lots to determine which arbitrations each shall undertake ; and every-
one is compelled to carry through the arbitrations which the lot as-
signs to him. The law enacts that anyone who does not serve as Ar-
bitrator when he has arrived at the necessary age shall lose his civil
rights, unless he happens to be holding some other office during that
year, or to be out of the country. These are the only persons who
escape the duty. Anyone who suffers injustice at the hands of the
Arbitrator may appeal to the whole board of Arbitrators, and if they
find the magistrate guilty, the law enacts that he shall lose his civil

INSTITUTIONS 97

rights. The persons thus condemned have, however, in their turn an
appeal. The Eponymi are also used in reference to military expedi-
tions ; when the men of military age are despatched on service, a notice
is put up stating that the men from such-and-such an Archon and
Eponymus to such-and-such another Archon and Eponymus are to
go on the expedition.

54. The following magistrates also are elected by lot : Ten Com-
missioners of Roads [Hodopoei], who, with an assigned body of pub-
lic slaves, are required to keep the roads in order : and ten Auditors,
with ten assistants, to whom all persons who have held any office must
give in their accounts. These are the only officers who audit the
accounts of those who are subject to examination, and who bring them
up for examination before the law-courts. If they detect any magis-
trate in embezzlement, the jury condemn him on a charge of embez-
zlement, and he is obliged to repay tenfold the sum he is declared
to have misappropriated. If they charge a magistrate with accept-
ing bribes and the jury convict him, they fine him for corruption,
and this sum too is repaid tenfold. Or if they convict him of
unfair dealing, he is fined on that charge, and the sum assessed is paid
without increase, if payment is made before the ninth prytany, but
otherwise it is doubled. A ten-fold fine is not doubled, however.

The Clerk of the Prytany, as he is called, is also elected by lot.
He is the chief of all the clerks, and keeps the resolutions which are
passed by the Assembly, and records all other business and attends
at the sessions of the Council. Formerly he was elected by open vote,
and the most distinguished and trustworthy persons were elected to
the post, as is known from the fact that the name of this officer is ap-
pended on the pillars recording treaties of alliance and grants of con-
sulship and citizenship. Now, however, he is elected by lot. There
is, in addition, a Clerk of the Laws, elected by lot, who attends at the
sessions of the Council ; and he too records all the laws. The Assem-
bly also elects by open vote a clerk to read documents to it and to the
Council ; but he has no other duty except that of reading aloud.

The Assembly also elects by lot ten Commissioners of Religion
[Hieropoei], known as the Commissioners for Sacrifices, who offer
the sacrifices appointed by oracle, and, in conjunction with the seers,
take auspices whenever there is occasion. It also elects by lot ten
others, known as Annual Commissioners, who offer certain sacrifices
and administer all the quadriennial festivals except the Panathenaea.
There are the following quadriennial festivals, first that of Delos

98 INSTITUTIONS

(where there is also a septennial festival), secondly the Brauronia,
thirdly the Heracleia, fourthly that at Eleusis, and fifthly the Pana-
thenaea. No two of these are celebrated in the same place ; [and the
regulations for them] are set forth [in the decrees passed] in the ar-
chonship of Cephisophon.

An Archon is also elected by lot for Salamis, and a Demarch for
Piraeus. These officers celebrate the Dionysia in these two places,
and appoint Choregi. In Salamis, moreover, the name of the Archon
is publicly recorded.

55. All the foregoing magistrates are elected by lot, and their
duties are those which have been stated. To pass on to the nine
Archons, as they are called, the manner of their appointment from
the earliest times has been described already. At the present day
six Thesmothetae are elected by lot, together with their clerk and in
addition to these an Archon, a King, and a Polemarch. One is elected
from each tribe. They are examined first of all by the Council of
Five Hundred, with the exception of the clerk. The latter is examined
only in the law-court, like other magistrates (for all magistrates,
whether elected by lot or by open vote, are examined before entering
on their offices) ; but the nine Archons are examined both in the Coun-
cil and again in the law-court. Formerly no one could hold the office
if the Council rejected him, but now there is an appeal to the law-court,
which is the final authority in the matter of examination. When they
are examined, they are asked, first, "Who is your father, and of what
deme? who is your father's father? who is your mother? who is your
mother's father, and of what deme?" Then the candidate is asked
whether he possesses an ancestral Apollo and a household Zeus, and
where their sanctuaries are; next if he possesses a family tomb, and
where ; then if he treats his parents well, and pays his taxes, and has
served on the required military expeditions. When the examiner has
put these questions, he proceeds, "Call the witnesses to these facts" ;
and when the candidate has produced his witnesses, he next asks,
"Does anyone wish to make any accusation against this man?" If
an accuser appears, he gives the parties an opportunity of making
their accusation and defence, and then puts it to the Council to pass
the candidates or not, and to the law-court to give the final vote.
Formerly a single individual gave the vote, but now all the members
are obliged to vote on the candidates, so that if any unprincipled
candidate has managed to get rid of his accusers, it may still be pos-
sible for him to be disqualified before thje law-court. When the ex-

INSTITUTIONS lj

amination has been thus completed, they proceed to the stone on
which are the pieces of the victims, and on which the Arbitrators
take oath before declaring their decisions, and witnesses swear to
their testimony. On this stone the Archons stand, and swear to
execute their office uprightly and according to the laws, and not to
receive presents in respect of the performance of their duties, or, if
they do, to dedicate a golden statue. When they have taken this
oath they proceed to the Acropolis, and there they repeat it; after
this they enter upon their office.

56. The Archon, the King, and the Polemarch have each two
assessors ; they appoint whomsoever they please to the post, but the
nominees are examined in the law-court before they begin to act, and
give in accounts on each occasion of their acting.

As soon as the Archon enters office, he begins by issuing a proc-
lamation that whatever anyone possessed before he entered into office,
that he shall possess and hold until the end of his term. Next he
assigns Choregi to the tragic poets, choosing three of the richest
persons out of the whole body of Athenians. Formerly he used also
to assign five Choregi to the comic poets, but now the tribes provide
the Choregi for this purpose. Then he r'eceives the Choregi who
have been appointed by the tribes for the men's and boy's choruses
and the comic poets at the Dionysia, and for the men's and boy's
choruses at the Thargelia (at the Dionysia there is a chorus for each
tribe, but at the Thargelia one between two tribes, each tribe bear-
ing its share in providing it), and transacts the exchanges of prop-
erties, and reports any excuses that are tendered, if anyone says that
he has already borne this burden, or that he is exempt because he
has borne a similar burden and the period of his exemption has not
yet expired, or that he is not forty years of age ; since the Choregus
of a boys' chorus must be over forty years of age. He also appoints
Choregi for the festival at Delos, and chiefs of the mission for the
thirty-oar boat which conveys the youths thither. He also super-
intends sacred processions, both that in honour of Ascleipius, when
the initiated keep house, and that of the great Dionysia, — the latter
in conjunction with the Superintendents of that festival. These of-
ficers, ten in number, were formerly elected by open vote in the As-
sembly, and used to provide for the expenses of the procession out
of their private means ; but now one is elected by lot from each tribe,
and the state contributes a hundred minas for the expenses. The
Archon also superintends the procession at the Thargelia, and that

100 INSTITUTIONS

in honour of Zeus the Saviour. He also manages the contests at the

Dionysia and the Thargelia.

These, then, are the festivals which he superintends. The suits
and indictments which come before him, and which he, after a pre-
liminary inquiry, brings up before the law-courts, are as follows. In-
jury to parents (for bringing these actions the prosecutor cannot
suffer any penalty) ; injury to orphans (these actions lie against their
guardians) ; injury to a ward of state (these lie against their guard-
ians or their husbands) ; injury to an orphan's house (these too lie
against the guardians) ; mental derangement, where a party charges
another with destroying his own property through unsoundness of
mind ; for appointment of liquidators, where a party refuses to divide
property in which others have a share; for constituting a wardship;
for determining between rival claims to a wardship, where more
persons than one wish to be enrolled as guardian of the same ward ;
and for determining disputes as to inheritances and wards of state.
The Archon also has the care of orphans and wards of state, and of
women who, on the death of their husband, declare themselves to
be with child ; and he has power to inflict a fine on those who offend
against the persons under his charge, or to bring the case before the
law-courts. He also leases out the houses of orphans and wards of
of state .... and takes mortgages on them ; and if the guardians
fail to provide the necessary food for the children under their charge,
he exacts it from them. Such are the duties of the Archon.

57. The King in the first place superintends the mysteries, in
conjunction with the Superintendents of Mysteries. The latter are
elected in the Assembly by open vote, two from the general body of
Athenians, one from the Eumolpidae, and one from the Ceryces.
Next, he superintends the Lenaean Dionysia On this occa-
sion the procession is ordered by the King and the Superintendents
in conjunction; but the contest is managed by the King alone. He
also manages all the contests of the torch-race ; and to speak broadly,
he administers all the ancestral sacrifices. Indictments for impiety
come before him, or any disputes between parties concerning priestly
rites; and he also determines all controversies concerning the privi-
leges of the ancient clans and the priests. All actions for homicide
come before him, and it is he that makes the proclamation requiring
polluted persons to keep away from sacred ceremonies. Actions for
homicide and wounding are of the following kinds. In cases of wil-
ful homicide, the offender is indicted in the Areopagus ; also in cases

INSTITUTIONS 101

of killing by poison, and of arson. These are the only cases heard
by that Council. Cases of unintentional homicide, or of intent to
kill, or of killing a slave or a resident alien or a foreigner, are heard
in the court of Palladium. When the homicide is acknowledged, but
legal justification is pleaded, as when a man takes an adulterer in
the act, or kills another by mistake in battle, or in an athletic contest,
the prisoner is tried in the court of Delphinium. If a man who is in
banishment for a homicide which admits of reconciliation incurs a
further charge of killing or wounding, he is tried in Phreatto, and he
makes his defence sitting in a boat moored near the shore. All
these cases, except those which are heard in the Areopagus, are tried
by the Ephetae on whom the lot falls. The King introduces them,
and the hearing is held by night and in the open air. Whenever the
King hears a case, he takes off his crown. The person who is sub-
ject to a charge of homicide is at all other times excluded from the
temples, nor is he allowed to enter the market-place; but on the oc-
casion of his trial he enters the temple and makes his defence. If
the actual offender is unknown, the writ runs against "the doer of
the deed." The King and the tribe-kings also hear the cases in
which the guilt rests on inanimate objects and the lower animals.

58. The Polemarch performs the sacrifices to Artemis the hunt-
ress and to Enyalius, and arranges the contest at the funeral of those
who have fallen in war, and makes offerings to the memory of Har-
modius and Aristogeiton. Of private actions, those come before him
in which resident aliens, both ordinary and privileged, and agents of
foreign states are concerned. It is his duty to receive these cases
and divide them into ten parts, and assign to each tribe the part
which comes to it by lot; after which the magistrates who introduce
cases for the tribe hand them over to the Arbitrators. The Pole-
march, however, brings up in person cases in which an alien is
charged with deserting his patron or neglecting to provide himself
with one, and also of inheritances and wards of state where aliens
are concerned; and in fact, generally, whatever the Archon does for
citizens, the Polemarch does for aliens.

59. The Thesmothetae in the first place have the power of pre-
scribing on what days the law-courts are to sit, and next of assigning
them to the several magistrates; for the latter must follow the ar-
rangement which the Thesmothetae assign. Moreover they intro-
duce impeachments before the Assembly, and bring up all votes for
removal from office, challenges of a magistrate's conduct before the

102 INSTITUTIONS

Assembly, indictments for illegal proposals, or for proposing a law
which is contrary to the interests of the s'tate, complaints against
Proedri or their president for their conduct in office, and the accounts
presented by the generals. All indictments also come before them
in which a deposit has to be made by the prosecutor, namely, indict-
ments for concealment of foreign origin, for corrupt evasion of for-
eign origin (when a man escapes the disqualification by bribery), for
blackmailing accusations, bribery, false entry of another as a state
debtor, false testimony to the service of a summons, conspiracy to
enter as a state debtor, corrupt omission from the list of debtors, and
adultery. They also bring up the examinations of all magistrates,
and the rejections by the demes and the condemnation by the Council.
Moreover they bring up certain private suits in cases of merchandise
and mines, or where a slave has slandered a free man. It is they also
who cast lots to assign the courts to the various magistrates, whether
for private or public cases. They ratify agreements with foreign
states to regulate the decision of commercial disputes, and bring up
the cases which arise out of such agreements; and they also bring
up cases of perjury from the Areopagus. The casting of lots for the
jurors is conducted by all the nine archons, with the clerk to the
Thesmothetae as the tenth, each performing the duty for his own
tribe. Such are the duties of the nine Archons.

60. There are also ten Commissioners of Games [Athlothetae],
elected by lot, one from each tribe. These officers, after passing an
examination, serve for four years ; and they manage the Panathenaic
procession, the contest in music and that in gymnastic, and the horse-
race; they also, in conjunction with the Council, see to the making
of the robe of Athena and the vases, and they present the oil to the
athletes. This oil is collected from the sacred olives. The archon
requisitions it from the owners of the farms on which the sacred olives
grow, to the amount of three-quarters of a pint from each plant. For-
merly the state used to sell the fruit itself, and if anyone dug up or
broke down one of the sacred olives, he was tried by the Council of
Areopagus, and if he was condemned, the penalty was death. Since,
however, the oil has been paid by the owner of the farm, the proce-
dure has lapsed, though the law remains. The state takes the oil
from the shoots, not from the stem of the plants. When, then, the
Archons has collected the oil for his year of office, he hands it over
to the Treasurers to preserve in the Acropolis, and he may not take
his seat in the Areopagus until he has paid over to the Treasurers

INSTITUTIONS 103

the full amount. The Treasurers keep it in the Acropolis until the
Panathenaea, when they measure it out to the Commissioners of
Games, and they again to the victorious competitors. The prizes for
the victors in the musical contest consist of silver and gold, for the
victors in manly vigour, of shields, and for the victors in the gym-
nastic contest and the horse-race, of oil.

61. All officers connected with military service are elected by
open vote. The Generals [Strategi] were formerly elected one from
each tribe, but now they are chosen from the whole mass of citizens.
Their duties are assigned to them by open vote; one is appointed to
command the heavy infantry, and leads the citizens if they go out to
war ; one to the defence of the country, who remains on the defensive,
and rights if there is war within the borders of the country; two to
Piraeus, one of whom is assigned to Munychia, and one to the south
shore, and these have charge of the north front and of everything in
Piraeus; and one to superintend the symmories, who nominates the
trierarchs and arranges exchanges of properties for them, and brings
up actions to decide on rival claims in connection with them. The
rest are despatched to whatever business may be on hand at the
moment. The appointment of these officers is submitted for con-
firmation in each prytany, when the question is put whether they are
considered to be doing their duty. If any officer is rejected on this
vote, he is tried in the law-court, and if he is found guilty the people
decide what punishment or fine shall be inflicted on him ; but if he is
acquitted he holds office for the rest of his term. The Generals have
full power, when on active service, to arrest anyone for insubordina-
tion, or to proclaim his name publicly, or to inflict a fine; the latter
is, however, unusual.

There are also ten Taxiarchs, one from each tribe, elected by
open vote ; and each commands his own tribesmen and appoints cap-
tains of companies [Lochagi]. There are also two Hipparchs, elect-
ed by open vote from the whole mass of the citizens, who command
the cavalry, each taking five tribes. They have the same powers as
the Generals have in respect of the infantry, and their appointments
are also subject to confirmation. There are also Phylarchs, elected
by open vote, one from each tribe, to command the cavalry, as the
Taxiarchs do the infantry. There is also a Hipparch for Lemnos,
elected by open vote, who has charge of the cavalry in Lemnos,
There is also a treasurer of the Paralus, and another of the Ammonias.

62. Of the magistrates elected by lot, in former times some,

104 INSTITUTIONS

including the nine Archons, were elected out of the tribe as a whole,
while others, namely those who are now elected in the Theseum, were
apportioned among the denies; but since the denies used to sell the
elections, these magistrates too are now elected from the whole tribe,
except the members of the Council and the guards of the dockyards,
who are still left to the demes.

Pay is received for the following services. First the members
of the Assembly receive a drachma for the ordinary meetings, and
nine obols for the "sovereign" meeting. Then the jurors at the
law-courts receive three obols ; and the members of the Council five
obols. The Prytanes receive an allowance for their maintenance. . . .
The nine Archons receive four obols apiece for maintenance, and also
keep a herald and a flute-player ; and the Archon for Salamis receives
a drachma a day. The Commissioners for Games dine in the Pry-
taneum during the month of Hecatombaeon in which the Panathenaic
festival takes place, from the fourteenth day onwards. The Amphic-
tyonic deputies to Delos receive a drachma a day from the exchequer
of Delos. Also all magistrates sent to Samos, Scyros, Lemnos or
Imbros receive an allowance for their maintenance. The military
offices may be held any number of times, but none of the others more
than once, except the membership of the Council, which may be held
twice.

63. The juries for the law-courts are chosen by lot by the nine
Archons, each for their own tribe, and by the clerk to the Thesmoth-
etae for the tenth. There are ten entrances into the courts, one for
each tribe; twenty vessels for holding votes, two for each tribe; a
hundred chests, ten for each tribe ; and ten other chests, in which are
placed the tickets of the jurors on whom the lot falls. Also two
vases and a number of staves, equal to that of the jurors required,
are placed by the side of each entrance ; and counters are put into
one vase, equal in number to the staves. These are inscribed with
letters of the alphabet bginning with the eleventh (lambda), equal in
number to the courts which require to be filled. All persons above
thirty years of age are qualified to serve as jurors, provided they are
not debtors to the state and have not lost their civil rights. If any
unqualified person serves as juror, an information is laid against him,
and he is brought before the court ; and, if he is convicted, the jurors
assess the punishment or fine which they consider him to deserve.
If he is condemned to a money fine, he must be imprisoned until he
has paid up both the original debt, on account of which the informa-

INSTITUTKMHI

taon was laid against him, and also the
posed upon him. Each juror HAS a tickrt
inscribed his name, with th<- nain« of his father *»»»{ hv
one of the letters of the alphabet uv ; kr.^pa ; for lii* mt
ided into ten sections according ;«» tbt-ir trihes, with a,>
an equal number from each tribe in each Utter.
mothetes has decided by lot which letters arr require! i
*kf courts, the servant puts up above each court thv K-tte
tea** assigned to it by the lot

TRANSLATION Ot ! .

2UHOHT/HOU

K* •i.

.bitnqyi SBW brn; ."J .£1 OF.J., Jpocfn , t^BilaiA ni mod «f;w ^UTiajDVJ
baJriin HJ;V/ •-!! .^i;[)i:Io;;/, Hii'// fioil'ftWWThff ol .mnvl/ bni; .•i.ibifl'f -i>li!
.atil f.iil k> rtv/on>l ^i -/fuil Juil ,^'jiiin ^-n;iofffrroJrntv vtl ,'i;ihirl'l r>j tx-iii
-•^loQ" Ji bollu-j Inn; yb'.J rti^nriif U&^'VH'rmn-^ 'J'iJ no •i^ih;')i) i; '»i»nw '.TT
JE313 B ecv/ sll .^'jiicj'jfl] ,-iiI Iritbudtrr-j jil rbirfv/ ni it/tr.l^ orlj Tjt'li; ": inurl<|
gnornE ^Jucaif ni balBupomj ,ctnrjubiq3 JK TjJii-affj aril biiiyi^'jb lun; i .ill ni;

-THERE is so much uncertainty in the ace/Mints which2"r?f^ttiJiaiili;i:I'J
have left us of Lycurgus, the lawgiver of <(,
thing is asserted In- OKI •.

was Aristotle; M»rf
upon one of th« coprxri

name of Lycurgus continue<l unt-ffaced to his time. But Rrat^sih- nos
and Apollodorus and other chronologers, computing the tiin-.- '••. >V
successions of the Spartan kings, pretend to demonstratt t.h.." lit was
much more ancient than the institution of <V Olyinp!*- t^ar- * , ^im-
aeus conjectures that there were two of •*?{«; iwnie, and in diverse
times, but that the one of th^n V-ein$ m,...i>. n*i.»rf fam.»ns than t>-

V 2-7

DORYPHORUS

Copy aiter Polycleitus, now in Xa]tJes.

POLYCLEITUS wa horn in Archaea about 430 P.. C. and was reputed,
like Phidias and Myron, to have studied with .V'.eladas. He was ranked
next to Phidias by contemporary critics, but little is known of his life.
He wrote a treatise on the symmetry of the human J">dy and called it "Dory-
phorus" after the statue in which he embodied his theories. He was a great
architect and designed the theater at Epidaurus, unequaled in beauty among
classic theaters. >.

INSTITUTIONS 105

tion was laid against him, and also the fine which the court has im-
posed upon him. Each juror has a ticket of box-wood, on which is
inscribed his name, with the name of his father and his deme, and
one of the letters of the alphabet up to kappa ; for the jurors are div-
ided into ten sections according to their tribes, with approximately
an equal number from each tribe in each letter. When the Thes-
mothetes has decided by lot which letters are required to attend at
the courts, the servant puts up above each court the letter which has
been assigned to it by the lot

TRANSLATION OF F. G. KENYON.

SPARTAN INSTITUTIONS

LYCURGUS
BY PLUTARCH

THERE is so much uncertainty in the accounts which historians
have left us of Lycurgus, the lawgiver of Sparta, that scarcely any
thing is asserted by one of them which is not called into question or
contradicted by the rest. Their sentiments are quite different as to
the family he came of, the voyages he undertook, the place and man-
ner of his death, but most of all when they speak of the laws he made
and the commonwealth which he founded. They cannot, by any
means, be brought to an agreement as to the very age in which he
lived ; for some of them say that he flourished in the time of Iphitus,
and that they two jointly contrived the ordinance for the cessation of
arms during the solemnity of the Olympic games. Of this opinion
was Aristotle; and for confirmation of it, he alleges an inscription
upon one of the copper quoits used in those sports, upon which the
name of Lycurgus continued uneffaced to his time. But Eratosthenes
and Apollodorus and other chronologers, computing the time by the
successions of the Spartan kings, pretend to demonstrate that he was
much more ancient than the institution of the Olympic games. Tim-
aeus conjectures that there were two of this name, and in diverse
times, but that the one of tb^m being much more famous than the

V 2-7

106 INSTITUTIONS

other, men gave to him the glory of the exploits of both; the elder
of the two, according to him, was not long after Homer; and some
are so particular as to say that he had seen him. But that he was
of great antiquity may be gathered from a passage in Xenophon,
where he makes him contemporary with the Heraclidae. By descent,
indeed, the very last kings of Sparta were Heraclidae too; but he
seems in that place to speak of the first and more immediate succes-
sors of Hercules. But notwithstanding this confusion and obscurity,
we shall endeavor to compose the history of his life, adhering to those
statements which are least contradicted, and depending upon those
authors who are most worthy of credit.

The poet Simonides will have it that Lycurgus was the son of
Prytanis, and not of Eunomus ; but in this opinion he is singular, for
all the rest deduce the genealogy of them both as follows; —

Aristodemus.

I
Patrocles.

I
Sous.

I
Eurypon.

Eunomus.

Polydectes by his first wife. Lycurgus by Dionassa his second.

Dieuchidas says he was the sixth from Patrocles and the eleventh
from Hercules. Be this as it will, Sous certainly was the most re-
nowned of all his ancestors, under whose conduct the Spartans made
slaves of the Helots, and added to their dominions, by conquest, a
good part of Arcadia. There goes a story of this king Sous, that,
being besieged by the Clitorians in a dry and stony place so that he
could come at no water, he was at last constrained to agree with them
upon these terms, that he would restore to them all his conquests,
provided that himself and all his men should drink of the nearest
spring. After the usual oaths and ratifications, he called his soldiers
together, and offered to him that would forbear drinking, his king-
dom for a reward ; and when not a man of them was able to forbear,
in short, when they had all drunk their fill, at last comes king Sous
himself to the spring, and, having sprinkled his face only, without

INSTITUTIONS 107

swallowing one drop, marches off in the face of his enemies, refusing
to yield up his conquests, because himself and all his men had not,
according to the articles, drunk of their water.

Although he was justly had in admiration on this account, yet
his family was not surnamed from him, but from his son Eurypon
(of whom they were called Eurypontids) ; the reason of which was
that Eurypon relaxed the rigor of the monarchy, seeking favor and
popularity with the many. They, after this first step, grew bolder;
and the succeeding kings partly incurred hatred with their people by
trying to use force, or, for popularity's sake and through weakness,
gave way ; and anarchy and confusion long prevailed in Sparta, caus-
ing, moreover, the death of the father of Lycurgus. For as he was
endeavoring to quell a riot, he was stabbed with a butcher's knife, and
left the title of king to his eldest son Polydectes.

He, too, dying soon after, the right of succession (as every one
thought) rested in Lycurgus; and reign he did, until it was found
that the queen, his sister-in-law, was with child; upon which he
immediately declared that the kingdom belonged to her issue, pro-
vided it were male, and that he himself exercised the regal jurisdic-
tion only as his guardian ; the Spartan name for which office is pro-
dicus. Soon after, an overture was made to him by the queen, that
she would herself in some way destroy the infant, upon condition
that he would marry her when he came to the crown. Abhorring
the woman's wickedness, he nevertheless did not reject her proposal,
but, making show of closing with her, despatched the messenger with
thanks and expressions of joy, but dissuaded her earnestly from pro-
curing herself to miscarry, which would impair her health, ii not en-
danger her life; he himself, he said, would see to it, that the child,
as soon as born, should be taken out of the way. By such artifices
having drawn on the woman to the time of her lying-in, as soon as
he heard that she was in labor, he sent persons to be by and observe
all that passed, with orders that if it were a girl they should deliver
it to the women, but if a boy, should bring it to him wheresoever he
were, and whatsoever doing. It so fell out that when he was at
supper with the principal magistrates, the queen was brought to bed
of a boy, who was soon after presented to him as he was at the table ;
he, taking him into his arms, said to those about him, "Men of Sparta,
here is a king born unto us;" this said, he laid him down in the
king's place, and named him Charilaus, that is, the joy of the people ;
because that all were transported with joy and with wonder at his

108 INSTITUTIONS

noble and just spirit. His reign had lasted only eight months, but
he was honored on other accounts by the citizens, and there were
more who obeyed him because of his eminent virtues, than because
he was regent to the king and had the royal power in his hands.
Some, however, envied and sought to impede his growing influence
while he was still young; chiefly the kindred and friends of the
queen-mother, who pretended to have been dealt with injuriously. Her
brother Leonidas, in a warm debate which fell out betwixt him and
'Lycurgus, went so far as to tell him to his face that he was well as-
sured that ere long he should see him king; suggesting suspicions
and preparing the way for an accusation of him, as though he had
made away with his nephew, if the child should chance to fail, though
by a natural death. Words of the like import were designedly cast
abroad by the queen-mother and her adherents.

Troubled at this, and not knowing what it might come to, he
thought it his wisest course to avoid their envy by a voluntary exile,
and to travel from place to place until his nephew came to marriage-
able years, and, by having a son, had secured the succession ; setting
sail, therefore, with this resolution, he first arrived at Crete, where,
having considered their several forms of government, and got an ac-
quaintance with the principal men amongst them, some of their laws
he very much approved of, and resolved to make use of them in his
own country; a good part he rejected as useless. Amongst the per-
sons there the most renowned for their learning and their wisdom in
state matters was one Thales, whom Lycurgus, by importunities and
assurances of friendship, persuaded to go over to Lacedaemon ; where,
though by his outward appearance and his own profession he seemed
to be no other than a lyric poet, in reality he performed the part of
one of the ablest lawgivers in the world. The very songs which he
composed were exhortations to obedience and concord, and the very
measure and cadence of the verse, conveying impressions of order
and tranquillity, had so great an influence on the minds of the list-
eners, that they were insensibly softened and civilized, insomuch that
they renounced their private feuds and animosities, and were reunited
in a common admiration of virtue. So that it may truly be said that
Thales prepared the way for the discipline introduced by Lycurgus.

From Crete he sailed to Asia, with design, as is said, to examine
the difference betwixt the manners and rules of life of the Cretans,
which were very sober and temperate, and those of the lonians, a
people of sumptuous and delicate habits, and so to form a judgment;

INSTITUTIONS 109

just as physicians do by comparing healthy and diseased bodies. Here
he had the first sight of Homer's works, in the hands, we may suppose,
of the posterity of Creophylus; and, having observed that the few
loose expressions and actions of ill example which are to be found
in his poems were much outweighed by serious lessons of state and
rules of morality, he set himself eagerly to transcribe and digest
them into order, as thinking they would be of good use in his own
country. They had, indeed, already obtained some slight repute
amongst the Greeks, and scattered portions, as chance conveyed them,
were in the hands of individuals; but Lycurgus first made them
really known.

The Egyptians say that he took a voyage into Egypt, and that,
being much taken with their way of separating the soldiery from the
rest of the nation, he transferred it from them to Sparta, a removal
from contact with those employed in low and mechanical occupations
giving high refinement and beauty to the state. Some Greek writers
also record this. But as for his voyages into Spain, Africa, and the
Indies, and his conferences there with the Gymnosophists, the whole
relation, as far as I can find, rests on the single credit of the Spartan
Aristocrates, the son of Hipparchus.

Lycurgus was much missed at Sparta, and often sent for, "for
kings indeed we have," they said, "who wear the marks and assume
the titles of royalty, but as for the qualities of their minds, they have
nothing by which they are to be distinguished from their subjects;"
adding, that in him alone was the true foundation of sovereignty to
be seen, a nature made to rule, and a genius to gain obedience. Nor
were the kings themselves averse to see him back, for they looked
upon his presence as a bulwark against the insolencies of the people.
Things being in this posture at his return, he applied himself,
without loss of time, to a thorough reformation and resolved to
change the whole face of the commonwealth; for what could a few
particular laws and a partial alteration avail ? He must act as wise phy-
sicians do, in the case of one who labors under a complication of dis-
eases, by force of medicines reduce and exhaust him, change his
whole temperament, and then set him upon a totally new regimen of
diet. Having thus projected things, away he goes to Delphi to con-
sult Apollo there; which having done, and offered his sacrifice, he
returned with that renowned oracle, in which he is called beloved of
God, and rather God than man; that his prayers were heard, that
his laws should be the best, and the commonwealth which observed

210 INSTITUTIONS

them the most famous in the world. Encouraged by these things,
he set himself to bring over to his side the leading men of Sparta,
exhorting them to give him a helping hand in his great undertaking;
he broke it first to his particular friends, and then by degrees gained
others, and animated them all to put his design in execution. When
things were ripe for action, he gave order to thirty of the principal
men of Sparta to be ready armed at the market-place by break of
day, to the end that he might strike a terror into the opposite party.
Hermippus hath set down the names of twenty of the most eminent
of them ; but the name of him whom Lycurgus most confided in, and
who was of most use to him, both in making his laws and putting
them in execution, was Arthmiadas. Things growing to a tumult,
king Charilaus, apprehending that it was a conspiracy against his
- person, took sanctuary in the temple of Minerva of the Brazen House ;
but, being soon after undeceived, and having taken an oath of them that
they had no designs against him, he quitted his refuge, and himself
also entered into the confederacy with them ; of so gentle and flexible
a dispostion he was, to which Archlaus, his brother-king, alluded,
when, hearing him extolled for his goodness, he said, "Who can say
he is any thing but good? he is so even to the bad."

Amongst the many changes and alterations which Lycurgus
made, the first and of greatest importance was the establishment of
the senate, which, having a power equal to the king's in matters of
great consequence, and, as Plato expresses it, allaying and qualifying
the fiery genius of the royal office, gave steadiness and safety to the
commonwealth. For the state, which before had no firm basis to
stand upon, but leaned one while towards an absolute monarchy, when
the kings had the upper hand, and another while towards a pure de-
mocracy, when the people had the better, found in this establishment
of the senate a central weight, like ballast in a ship, which always
kept things in a just equilibrium; the twenty-eight always adhering
to the kings so far as to resist democracy, and, on the other hand,
supporting the people against the establishment of absolute monarchy.
As for the determinate number of twenty-eight, Aristotle states, that
it so fell out because two of the original associates, for want of
courage, fell off from the enterprise; but Sphserus assures us that
there were but twenty-eight of the confederates at first ; perhaps there
is some mystery in the number, which consists of seven multiplied
by four, and is the first of perfect numbers after six, being, as that
is, equal to all its parts. For my part, I believe Lycurgus fixed upon

INSTITUTIONS 111

the number of twenty-eight, that, the two kings being reckoned
amongst them, they might be thirty in all. So eagerly set was he
upon this establishment, that he took the trouble to obtain an oracle
about it from Delphi, the Rhetra, which runs thus: "After that you
have built a temple to Jupiter Hellanius, and to Minerva Hellania,
and after that you have phyle'd the people into phyles, and obe'd them
to obes, you shall establish a council of thirty elders, the leaders in-
cluded, and shall, from time to time, apellasein the people betwixt
Babyca and Cnacion, there propound and put to the vote. The com-
mons have the final voice and decision." By phyles and obes are
meant the divisions of the people ; by the leaders, the two kings ; ap-
pillazein, referring to the Pythian Apollo, signifies to assemble ; Baby-
ca and Cnacion they now call Oenus; Aristotle says Cnacion is a
river, and Babyca a bridge. Betwixt this Babyca and Cnacion, their
assemblies were held, for they had no council-house or building to
meet in. Lycurgus was of opinion that ornaments were so far from
advantaging them in their counsels, that they were rather an hinder-
ance, by diverting their attention from the business before them to
statutes and pictures, and roofs curiously fretted, the usual embel-
lishments of such places amongst the other Greeks. The people then
being thus assembled in the open air, it was not allowed to any one
of their order to give his advice, but only either to ratify or reject
what should be propounded to them by the king or senate. But be-
cause it fell out afterwards that the people, by adding or omitting
words, distorted and perverted the sense of propositions, kings Poly-
dorus and Theopompus inserted into the Rhetra, or grand covenant,
the following clause: "That if the people decide crookedly, it should
be lawful for the elders and leaders to dissolve;" that is to say, re-
fuse ratification, and dismiss the people as depravers and perverters
of their counsel. It passed among the people, by their management,
as being equally authentic with the rest of the Rhetra, as appears by
these verses of Tyrtaeus, —

These oracles they from Apollo heard,
And brought from Pytho home the perfect word:
The heaven-appointed kings, who love the land,
Shall foremost in the nation's council stand;
The elders next to them; the commons last;
Let a straight Rhetra among all be passed.

112 INSTITUTIONS

Although Lycurgus had, in this manner, used all the qualifica-
tions possible in the constitution of his commonwealth, yet those
who succeeded him found the oligarchical element still too strong and
dominant, and, to check its high temper and its violence, put, as
Plato says, a bit in its mouth, which was the power of the ephori,
established an hundred and thirty years after death of Lycurgus.
Elatus and his colleagues were the first who had this dignity con-
ferred upon them, in the reign of king Theopompus, who, when his
queen upbraided him one day that he would leave the regal power
to his children less than he had received it from his ancestors, said,
in answer, "No, greater; for it will last longer." For, indeed, their
prerogative being thus reduced within reasonable bounds, the Spartan
kings at once freed from all further jealousies and consequent danger,
and never experienced the calamities of their neighbors at Messene
and Argos, who, by maintaining their prerogative too strictly, for
want of yielding a little to the populace, lost it all.

Indeed, whosoever shall look at the sedition and misgovernment
which befell these bordering nations to whom they were as near related
in blood as situation, will find in them the best reason to admire the
wisdom and foresight of Lycurgus. For these three states, in their first
rise, were equal, or, if there were any odds, they lay on the side of the
Messenians and Argives, who, in the first allotment, were thought to
have been luckier than the Spartans; yet was their happiness but of
small continuance, partly the tyrannical temper of their kings and partly
the ungovernableness of the people quickly bringing upon them such
disorders, and so complete an overthrow of all existing institutions, as
clearly to show how truly divine a blessing the Spartans had had in that
wise lawgiver who gave their government its happy balance and
temper. But of this I shall say more in its due place.

After the creation of the thirty senators, his next task, and, indeed,
the most hazardous he ever undertook, was the making a new division
of their lands. For there was an extreme inequality amongst them,
and their state was overloaded with a multitude of indigent and neces-
sitous persons, while its whole wealth had centered upon a very few.
To the end, therefore, that he might expel from the state arrogance
and envy, luxury and crime, and those yet more inveterate diseases
of want and superfluity, he obtained of them to renounce their proper-
ties, and to consent to a new division of the land, and that they should
live all together on an equal footing; merit to be their only road to
eminence, and the disgrace of evil, and credit of worthy acts, their one

INSTITUTIONS 113

measure of difference between man and man.

Upon their consent to these proposals, proceeding at once to put
them into execution, he divided the country of Laconia in general into
thirty thousand equal shares, and the part attached to the city of
Sparta into nine thousand ; these be distributed among Spartans, as he
did the others to the country citizens. Some authors say that he
made but six thousand lots for the citizens of Sparta, and that king
Polydorus added three thousand more. Others say that Polydorus
doubled the number Lycurgus had made, which, according to them,
was but four thousand five hundred. A lot was so much as to yield,
one year with another, about seventy bushels of grain for the master
of the family, and twelve for his wife, with a suitable proportion of oil
and wine. And this he thought sufficient to keep their bodies in good
health and strength; superfluities they were better without. It is re-
ported, that, as he returned from a journey shortly after the division
of the lands, in harvest time, the ground being newly reaped, seeing
the stacks all standing equal and alike, he smiled, and said to those
about him, "Methinks all Laconia looks like one family estate just
divided among a number of brothers."

Not contented with this, he resolved to make a division of their
movables too, that there might be no odious distinction or inequality
left amongst them ; but finding that it would be very dangerous to go
about it openly, he took another course, and defeated their avarice by
the following stratagem : he commanded that all gold and silver coin
should be called in, and that only a sort of money made of iron should
be current, a great weight and quality of which was but very little
worth; so that to lay up twenty or thirty pounds there was required
a pretty large closet, and, to remove it, nothing less than a yoke of
oxen. With the diffusion of this money, at once a number of vices
were banished from Lacedaemon ; for who would rob another of such a
coin? Who would unjustly detain or take by force, or accept as a
bribe, a thing which it was not easy to hide, nor a credit to have, nor
indeed of any use to cut in pieces ? For when it was just red hot, they
quenched it in vinegar, and by that means spoilt it, and made it almost
incapable of being worked.

In the next place, he declared an outlawry of all needless and
superfluous arts ; but here he might almost have spared his proclama-
tion ; for they of themselves would have gone after the gold and silver,
the money which remained being not so proper payment for curious
work ; for, being of iron, it was scarcely portable, neither, if they should

114 INSTITUTIONS

take the pains to export it, would it pass amongst the other Greeks, who
ridiculed it. So there was now no more means of purchasing foreign
goods and small wares; merchants sent no shiploads into Laconian
ports ; no rhetoric-master, no itinerant fortune-teller, no harlot-monger,
or gold or silversmith, engraver, or jeweler, set foot in a country which
had no money; so that luxury, deprived little by little of that which
fed and fomented it, wasted to nothing, and died away of itself. For
the rich had no advantage here over the poor, as their wealth and abun-
dance had no road to come abroad by, but were shut up at home doing
nothing. And in this way they became excellent artists in common,
necessary things; bedsteads, chairs, and tables, and such-like staple
utensils in a family, were admirably well made there ; their cup particu-
larly, was very much in fashion, and eagerly bought up by soldiers, as
Critias reports ; for its color was such as to prevent water, drunk upon
necessity and disagreeable to look at, from being noticed ; and the shape
of it was such that the mud stuck to the sides, so that only the purer
part came to the drinker's mouth. For this, also, they had to thank
their lawgiver, who, by relieving the artisans of the trouble of making
useless things, set them to show their skill in giving beauty to those
of daily and indispensable use.

The third and most masterly stroke of this great lawgiver, by,
which he struck a yet more effectual blow against luxury and the desire
of riches, was the ordinance he made, that they should all eat in com-
mon, of the same bread and same meat, and of kinds that were specified,
and should not spend their lives at home, laid on costly couches at
splendid tables, delivering themselves up into the hands of their trades-
men and cooks, to fatten them in corners, like greedy brutes, and to
ruin not their minds only but their very bodies, which, enfeebled by
indulgence and excess, would stand in need of long sleep, warm bath-
ing, freedom from work, and, in a word, of as much care and attention
as if they were continually sick. It was certainly an extraordinary
thing to have brought about such a result as this, but a greater yet to
have taken away from wealth, as Theophrastus observes, not merely
the property of being coveted, but its very nature of being wealth. For
the rich, being obliged to go to the same table with the poor, could not
make us of or enjoy their abundance, nor so much as please their vanity
by looking at or displaying it. So that the common proverb, that
Plutus, the god of riches, is blind, was nowhere in all the world liter-
ally verified but in Sparta. There, indeed, he was not only blind, but
like a picture, without either life or motion. Nor were they allowed

INSTITUTIONS 115

to take food at home first, and then attend the public tables, for every
one had an eye upon those who did not eat and drink like the rest,
and reproached them with being dainty and effeminate.

This last ordinance in particular exasperated the wealthier men.
They collected in a body against Lycurgus, and from ill words came
to throwing stones, so that at length he was forced to run out of the
market-place, and make to a sanctuary to save his life ; by good-hap he
outran all excepting one Alcander, a young man otherwise not ill ac-
complished, but hasty and violent, who came up so close to him, that,
when he turned to see who was near him, he struck him upon the face
with his stick, and put out one of his eyes. Lycurgus, so far from be-
ing daunted and discouraged by this accident, stopped short, and
showed his disfigured face and eye beat out to his countrymen ; they,
dismayed and ashamed at the sight, delivered Alcander into his hands
to be punished, and escorted him home, with expressions of great con-
cern for his ill usage. Lycurgus, having thanked them for their care
of his person, dismissed them all, excepting only Alcander ; and, taking
him with him into his house, neither did nor said any thing severely to
him, but, dismissing those whose place it was, bade Alcander to wait
upon him at table. The young man, who was of an ingenuous temper,
without murmuring did as he was commanded; and, being thus ad-
mitted to live with Lycurgus, he had an opportunity to observe in him,
besides his gentleness and calmness of temper, an extraordinary so-
briety and an indefatigable industry, and so, from an enemy, became one
of his most zealous admirers, and told his friends and relatives that
Lycurgus was not that morose and ill-natured man they had formerly
taken him for, but the one mild and gentle character of the world. And
thus did Lycurgus, for chastisement of his fault, make of a wild and
passionate young man one of the discreetest citizens of Sparta.

In memory of this accident, Lycurgus built a temple to Minerva,
surnamed Optiletis ; optilus being the Doric of these parts for ophth-
almus, the eye. Some authors, however, of whom Dioscorides is one
(who wrote a treatise on the commonwealth of Sparta), say that he
was wounded, indeed, but did not lose his eye with the blow ; and that
he built the temple in gratitude for the cure. Be this as it will, certain
it is, that, after this misadventure, the Lacedsemonians made it a rule
never to carry so much as a staff into their public assemblies.

But to return to their public repasts ; — these had several names in
Greek ; the Cretans called them andria, because the men only came to
them. The Lacedaemonians called them phiditia, that is, by changing

116 INSTITUTIONS

/ into d, the same as philitia, love feasts, because that, by eating and
drinking together, they have opportunity of making friends. Or per-
haps from phido, parsimony, because they were so many schools of
sobriety ; or perhaps the first letter is an addition, and the word at first
was editia, from edode, eating. They met by companies of fifteen,
more or less and each of them stood bound to bring in monthly a
bushel of meal, eight gallons of wine, five pounds of cheese, two pounds
and a half of figs, and some very small sum of money to buy flesh or
fish with. Besides this, when any of them made sacrifice to the gods,
they always sent a dole to the common hall ; and, likewise, when any
of them had been a hunting, he sent thither a part of the venison he
had killed ; for these two occasions were the only excuses allowed for
supping at home. The custom of eating together was observed strictly
for a great while afterwards ; insomuch that king Agis himself, after
having vanquished the Athenians, sending for his commons at his
return home, because he desired to eat privately with his queen, was re-
fused them by the polemarchs ; which refusal when he resented so much
as to omit next day the sacrifice due for a war happily ended, they made
him pay a fine.

They used to send their children to these tables as to schools of
temperance ; here they were instructed in state affairs by listening to ex-
perienced statesmen; here they learnt to converse with pleasantry, to
make jests without scurrility, and take them without ill humor. In
this point of good breeding, the Lacedzemonians. excelled particularly,
but if any man were uneasy under it, upon the least hint given there
was no more to be said to him. It was customary also for the eldest
man in the company to say to each of them, as they came in, "Through
this" (pointing to the door), "no words go out." When any one had
a desire to be admitted into any of these little societies ; he was to go
through the following probation, each man in the company took a
little ball of soft bread, which they were to throw into a deep basin,
which a waiter carried round upon his head ; those that liked the person
to be chosen dropped their ball into the basin without altering its figure,
and those who disliked him pressed it betwixt their fingers, and made
it flat; and this signified as much as a negative voice. And if there
were but one of these flattened pieces in the basin, the suitor was re-
jected, so desirous were they that all the members of the company
should be agreeable to each other. The basin was called caddichus,
and the rejected candidate had a name thence derived. Their most
famous dish was the black broth, which was so much valued that the

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elderly men fed only upon that, leaving what flesh there was to the
younger.

They say that a certain king of Pontus, having heard much of this
black broth of theirs, sent for a Lacedaemonian cook on purpose to
make him some, but had no sooner tasted it than he found it extremely
bad, which the cook observing, told him, "Sir, to make this broth relish,
you should have bathed yourself first in the river Eurotas."

After drinking moderately, every man went to his home without
lights, for the use of them was, on all occasions, forbidden, to the end
that they might accustom themselves to march boldly in the dark.
Such was the common fashion of their meals.

Lycurgus would never reduce his laws into writing; nay, there
is a Rhetra expressly to forbid it. For he thought that the most mater-
ial points, and such as most directly tended to the public welfare, being
imprinted on the hearts of their youth by a good discipline, would be
sure to remain, and would find a stronger security, than any compulsion
would be, in the principles of action formed in them by their best law-
giver, education. And as for things of lesser importance, as pecuniary
contracts, and such like, the forms of which have to be changed as oc-
casion requires, he thought it the best way to prescribe no positive
rule or inviolable usage in such cases, willing that their manner and
form should be altered according to the circumstances of time, and
determinations of men of sound judgment. Every end and object of
law and enactment it was his design education should effect.

One, then, of the Rhetras was, that their law should not be writ-
ten; another is particularly levelled against luxury and expensiveness,
for by it it was ordained that the ceilings of their houses should only be
wrought by the axe, and their gates and doors smoothed only by the
saw. Epaminondas's famous dictum about his own table, that "Trea-
son and a dinner like this do not keep company together," may be said
to have been anticipated by Lycurgus. Luxury and a house of this
kind could not well be companions. For a man must have a less than
ordinary share of sense that would furnish such plain and common
rooms with silver-footed couches and purple coverlets and gold and
silver plate. Doubtless he had good reason to think that they would pro-
portion their beds to their houses, and their coverlets to their beds, and
the rest of their goods and furniture to these. It is reported that king
Leotychides, the first of that name, was so little used to the sight of
any other kind of work, that, being entertained at Corinth in a stately
room, he was much surprised to see the timber and ceiling so finely

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carved and panelled, and asked his host whether the trees grew so in
his country.

A third ordinance or Rhetra was, that they should not make war
often, or long, with the same enemy, lest that they should train and
instruct them in war, by habituating them to defend themselves. And
this is what Agesilaus was much blamed for, a long time after ; it being
thought, that, by his continual incursions into Bceotia, he made the
Thebans a match for the Lacedaemonians; and therefore Antalcidas,
seeing him wounded one day, said to him, that he was very well paid
for taking such pains to make the Thebans good soldiers, whether they
would or no. These laws were called the Rhetras, to intimate that they
were divine sanctions and revelations.

In order to the good education of their youth (which, as I said
before, he thought the most important and noblest work of a law-
giver), he went so far back as to take into consideration their very
conception and birth, by regulating their marriages. For Aristotle is
wrong in saying, that, after he had tried all ways to reduce the women
to more modesty and sobriety, he was at last forced to leave them as
they were, because that, in the absence of their husbands, who spent
the best part of their lives in the wars, their wives, whom they were
obliged to leave absolute mistresses at home, took great liberties and
assumed the superiority ; and were treated with overmuch respect and
called by the title of lady or queen. The truth is, he took in their case,
also, all the care that was possible ; he ordered the maidens to exercise
themselves with wrestling, running, throwing the quoit, and casting
the dart, to the end that the fruit they conceived might, in strong and
healthy bodies, take firmer root and find better growth, and withal that
they, with this greater vigor, might be the more able to undergo the
pains of child-bearing. And to the end he might take away their over-
great tenderness and fear of exposure to the air, and all acquired
womanishness, he ordered that the young women should go naked in
the processions, as well as the young men, and dance, too, in that con-
dition, at certain solemn feasts, singing certain songs, whilst the young
men stood around, seeing and hearing them. On these occasions, they
now and then made, by jests, a befitting reflection upon those who had
misbehaved themselves in the wars ; and again sang encomiums upon
those who had done any gallant action, and by these means inspired
the younger sort with an emulation of their glory. Those that were
thus commended went away proud, elated, and gratified with their
honor among the maidens ; and those who were rallied were as sensibly

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touched with it as if they had been formally reprimanded ; and so much
the more, because the kings and the elders, as well as the rest of the
city, saw and heard all that passed. Nor was there any thing shameful
in this nakedness of the young women; modesty attended them, and
all wantonness was excluded. It taught them simplicity and a care for
good health, and gave them some taste of higher feelings, admitted as
they thus were to the field of noble action and glory. Hence it was
natural for them to think and speak as Gorgo, for example, the wife
of Leonidas, is said to have done, when some foreign lady, as it would
seem, told her that the women of Lacedsemon were the only women
of the world who could rule men ; "With good reason," she said, "for
we are the only women who bring forth men."

These public processions of the maidens, and their appearing naked
in their exercises and dancings, were incitements to marriage, operat-
ing upon the young with the rigor and certainty, as Plato says, of love,
if not of mathematics. But besides all this, to promote it yet more
effectually, those who continued bachelors were in a degree disfran-
chised by law; for they were excluded from the sight of those public
processions in which the young men and maidens danced naked, and,
in winter-time, the officers compelled them to march naked themselves
round the market-place, singing as they went a certain song to their
own disgrace, that they justly suffered this punishment for disobeying
the laws. Moreover, they were denied that respect and observance
which the younger men paid their elders; and no man, for example,
found fault with what was said to Dercyllidas, though so eminent a
commander; upon whose approach one day, a young man, instead of
rising, retained his seat, remarking, "No child of yours will make room
for me."

In their marriages, the husband carried off his bride by a sort of
force ; nor were their brides ever small and of tender years, but in their
full bloom and ripeness. After this, she who superintended the wed-
ding comes and clips the hair of the bride close around her head, dresses
her up in man's clothes, and leaves her upon a mattress in the dark ;
afterwards comes the bridegroom, in his every-day clothes, sober and
composed, as having supped at the common table, and, entering pri-
vately into the room where the bride lies, unties her virgin zone, and
takes her to himself ; and, after staying some time together, he returns
composedly to his own apartment, to sleep as usual with the other
young men. And so he continues to do, spending his days, and, indeed,
his nights with them, visiting his bride in fear and shame, and with

120 INSTITUTIONS

circumspection, when he thought he should not be observed ; she, also,
on her part, using her wit to help and find favorable opportunities for
their meeting, when company was out of the way. In this manner
they lived a long time, insomuch that they sometimes had children by
their wives before ever they saw their faces by daylight. Their inter-
views, being thus difficult and rare, served not only for continual exer-
cise of their self-control, but brought them together with their bodies
healthy and vigorous, and their affections fresh and lively, unsated and
undulled by easy access and long continuance with each other; while
their partings were always early enough to leave behind unextinguished
in each of them some remaining fire of longing and mutual delight.
After guarding marriage with this modesty and reserve, he was equally
careful to banish empty and womanish jealousy. For this object,
excluding all licentious disorders, he made it, nevertheless, honorable
for men to give the use of their wives to those whom they should think
fit, that so they might have children by them ; ridiculing those in whose
opinion such favors are so unfit for participation as to fight and shed
blood and go to war about it. Lycurgus allowed a man who was
advanced in years and had a young wife to recommend some virtuous
and approved young man, that she might have a child by him, who
might inherit the good qualities of the father, and be a son to himself.
On the other side, an honest man who had love for a married woman on
account of her modesty and the well-favoredness of her children, might,
without formality, beg her company of her husband, that he might raise,
as it were, from this plot of good ground, worthy and well-allied chil-
dren for himself. And, indeed, Lycurgus was of a persuasion that
children were not so much the property of their parents as of the whole
commonwealth, and, therefore, would not have his citizens begot by
the first comers, but by the best men that could be found ; the laws of
others nations seemed to him very absurd and inconsistent, where peo-
ple would be so solicitous for their dogs and horses as to exert interest
and pay money to procure fine breeding, and yet kept their wives shut
Up, to be made mothers only by themselves, who might' be foolish,
infirm, or diseased ; as if it were not apparent that children of a bad
breed would prove their bad qualities first upon those who kept and
were rearing them, and well-born children, in like manner, their good
qualities. These regulations, founded on natural and social grounds,
were certainly so far from that scandalous liberty which was afterwards
charged upon their women, that they knew not what adultery meant.
It is told, for instance, of Geradas, a very ancient Spartan, that, being

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asked by a stranger what punishment their law had appointed for
adulterers, he answered, "There are no adulterers in our country."
"But," replied the stranger, "suppose there were?" "Then," answered
he, "the offender would have to give the plaintiff a bull with a neck
so long that he might drink from the top of Taygetus of the Eurotas
river below it." The man, surprised at this, said, "Why, 't is impos-
sible to find such a bull." Geradas smilingly replied, " 'T is as possible
as to find an adulterer in Sparta." So much I had to say of their mar-
riages.

Nor was it in the power of the father to dispose of the child as he
thought fit; he was obliged to carry it before certain triers at a place
called Lesche ; these were some of the elders of the tribe to which the
child belonged ; their business it was carefully to view the infant, and,
if they found it stout and well made, they gave order for its rearing,
and allotted to it one of the nine thousand shares of land above men-
tioned for its maintenance, but, if they found it puny and ill-shaped,
ordered it to be taken to what was called the Apothetae, a sort of chasm
under Taygetus ; as thinking it neither for the good of the child itself,
nor for the public interest, that it should be brought up, if it did not,
from the very outset, appear made to be healthy and vigorous. Upon
the same account, the women did not bathe the new-born children with
water, as is the custom in all other countries, but with wine, to prove
the temper and complexion of their bodies; from a notion they had
that epileptic and weakly children faint and waste away upon their being
thus bathed, while, on the contrary, those of a strong and vigorous
habit acquire firmness and get a temper by it, like steel. There was
much care and art, too, used by the nurses; they had no swaddling
bands ; the children grew up free and unconstrained in limb and form,
and not dainty and fanciful about their food; not afraid in the dark,
or of being left alone ; without any peevishness or ill humor or crying.
Upon this account, Spartan nurses were often bought up, or hired by
people of other countries ; and it is recorded that she who suckled Alci-
biades was a Spartan ; who, however, if fortunate in his nurse, was not
so in his preceptor; his guardian, Pericles, as Plato tells us, chose a
servant for that office called Zopyrus, no better than any common slave.

Lycurgus was of another mind ; he would not have masters bought
out of the market for his young Spartans, nor such as should sell their
pains ; nor was it lawful, indeed, for the father himself to breed up the
children after his own fancy ; but as soon as they were seven years old
they were to be enrolled in certain companies and classes, where they

V 2-8

122 INSTITUTIONS

all lived under the same order and discipline, doing their exercises and
taking their play together. Of these, he who showed the most conduct
and courage was made captain; they had their eyes always upon him,
obeyed his orders, and underwent patiently whatsoever punishment he
inflicted ; so that the whole course of their education was one continued
exercise of a ready and perfect obedience. The old men, too, were
spectators of their performances, and often raised quarrels and disputes
among them, to have a good opportunity of finding out their different
characters, and of seeing which would be valiant, which a coward, when
they should come to more dangerous encounters. Reading and writing
they gave them, just enough to serve their turn ; their chief care was
to make them good subjects, and to teach them to endure pain and
conquer in battle. To this end, as they grew in years, their discipline
was proportionately increased; their heads were close-clipped, they
were accustomed to go bare-foot, and for the most part to play naked.

After they were twelve years old, they were no longer allowed to
wear any under-garment ; they had one coat to serve them a year;
their bodies were hard and dry, with but little acquaintance of baths
and unguents ; these human indulgences they were allowed only on some
few particular days in the year. They lodged together in little bands
upon beds made of the rushes which grew by the banks of the river
Eurotas, which they were to break off with their hands without a
knife; if it were winter, they mingled some thistle-down with their
rushes, which it was thought had the property of giving warmth. By
the time they were come to this age, there was not any of the more
hopeful boys who had not a lover to bear him company. The old men,
too, had an eye upon them, coming often to the grounds to hear and
see them contend either in wit or strength with one another, and this as
seriously and with as much concern as if they were their fathers, their
tutors, or their magistrates; so that there scarcely was any time or
place without some one present to put them in mind of their duty, and
punish them if they had neglected it.

Besides all this, there was always one of the best and honestest
men in the city appointed to undertake the charge and governance of
them ; he again arranged them into several bands, and set over each of
them for their captain the most temperate and boldest of those they
called Irens, who were usually twenty years old, two years out of the
boys ; and the eldest of the boys, again, were Mell-Irens, as much as to
say, who would shortly be men. This young man, therefore, was their
captain when they fought, and their master at home, using them for

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the offices of his house ; sending the oldest of them to fetch wood, and
the weaker and less able, to gather salads and herbs, and these they
must either go without or steal; which they did by creeping into the
gardens, or conveying themselves cunningly and closely into the eating-
houses; if they were taken in the act, they were whipped without
mercy, for thieving so ill and awkwardly. They stole, too, all other
meat they could lay their hands on, looking out and watching all oppor-
tunities, when people were asleep or more careless than usual. If they
were caught, they were not only punished with whipping, but hunger,
too, being reduced to their ordinary allowance, which was but very
slender, and so contrived on purpose, that they might set about to help
themselves, and be forced to exercise their energy and address. This
was the principal design of their hard fare ; there was another not incon-
siderable, that they might grow taller ; for the vital spirits, not being
overburdened and oppressed by too great a quantity of nourishment,
which necessarily discharges itself into thickness and breadth, do, by
their natural lightness, rise ; and the body, giving and yielding because
it is pliant, grows in height. The same thing seems, also, to conduce
to beauty of shape ; a dry and lean habit is a better subject for nature's
configuration, which the gross and over-fed are too heavy to submit
to properly. Just as we find that women who take physic whilst they
are with child, bear leaner and smaller but better-shaped and prettier
children ; the material they come of having been more pliable and easily
moulded. The reason, however, I leave others to determine.

To return from whence we have digressed. So seriously did the
Lacedaemonian children go about their stealing, that a youth, having
stolen a young fox and hid it under his coat, suffered it to tear out his
very bowels with its teeth and claws, and died upon the place, rather
than let it be seen. What is practised to this very day in Lacedaemon
is enough to gain credit to this story, for I myself have seen several of
the youths endure whipping to death at the foot of the altar of Diana
surnamed Orthia.

The Iren, or under-master, used to stay a little with them after
supper, and one of them he bade to sing a song, to another he put a
question which required a judicious answer; for example,
Who was the best man in the city ? What he thought of such an action
of such a man? They used them thus early to pass a right judgment
upon persons and things, and to inform themselves of the abilities or
defects of their countrymen. If they had not an answer ready to the
question Who was a good or who was an ill-reputed citizen, they were
looked upon as of a dull and careles? disposition, and to have little or

124 INSTITUTIONS

no sense of virtue and honor; besides this, they were to give a good
reason for what they said, and in as few words and as comprehensive
as might be ; he that failed of this, or answered not to the purpose, had
his thumb bit by his master. Sometimes the Iren did this in the pres-
ence of the old men and magistrates, that they might see whether he
punished them justly and in due measure or not; and when he did
amiss, they would not reprove him before the boys, but, when they
were gone, he was called to an account and underwent correction, if he
had run far into either of the extremes of indulgence or severity.

Their lovers and favorers, too, had a share in the young boy's
honor or disgrace ; and there goes a story that one of them was fined
by the magistrates, because the lad whom he loved cried out effeminately
as he was fighting. And though this sort of love was so approved
among them, that the most virtuous matrons would make professions
of it to young girls, yet rivalry did not exist, and if several men's
fancies met in one person, it was rather the beginning of an intimate
friendship, whilst they all jointly conspired to render the object of their
affection as accomplished as possible.

They taught them, also, to speak with a natural and graceful rail-
lery, and to comprehend much matter of thought in few words. For
Lycurgus, who ordered, as we saw, that a great piece of money should
be but of an inconsiderable value, on the contrary would allow no dis-
course to be current which did not contain in few words a great deal
of useful and curious sense; children in Sparta, by a habit of long
silence, came to give just and sententious answers ; for, indeed, as loose
and incontinent livers are seldom fathers of many children, so loose
and incontinent talkers seldom originate many sensible words. King
Agis, when some Athenian laughed at their short swords, and said
that the jugglers on the stage swallowed them with ease, answered
him, "We find them long enough to reach our enemies with;" and as
their swords were short and sharp, so, it seems to me, were their say-
ings. They reach the point and arrest the attention of the hearers
better than any. Lycurgus himself seems to have been short and sen-
tentious, if we may trust the anecdotes of him; as appears by his
answer to one who by all means would set up democracy in Lacedaemon.
"Begin, friend," said he, "and set it up in your family." Another
asked him why he allowed of such mean and trivial sacrifices to the
gods. He replied, "That we may always have something to offer to
them." Being asked what sort of martial exercises or combats he ap-
proved of, he answered, "All sorts, except that in which you stretch

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out your hands." Similar answers, addressed to his countrymen by
letter, are ascribed to him; as, being consulted how they might best
oppose an invasion of their enemies, he returned this answer, "By con-
tinuing poor, and not coveting each man to be greater than his fellow."
Being consulted again whether it were requisite to enclose the city
with a wall, he sent them word, "The city is well fortified which hath a
wall of men instead of brick." But whether these letters are counter-
feit or not is not easy to determine.

Of their dislike to talkativeness, the following apophthegms are
evidence. King Leonidas said to one who held him in discourse upon
some useful matter, but not in due time and place, "Much to the pur-
pose, Sir, elsewhere." King Charilaus, the nephew of Lycurgus, being
asked why his uncle had made so few laws, answered, "Men of few
words require but few laws." When one blamed Hecataeus the sophist
because that, being invited to the public table, he had not spoken one
word all supper-time, Archidamidas answered in his vindication, "He
who knows how to speak, knows also when."

The sharp and yet not ungraceful retorts which I mentioned may
be instanced as follows. Demaratus, being asked in a troublesome man-
ner by an importunate fellow, Who was the best man in Lacedaemon?
answered at last, "He, Sir, that is the least like you." Some, in com-
pany where Agis was, much extolled the Eleans for their just and hon-
orable management of the Olympic games ; "Indeed," said Agis, "they
are highly to be commended if they can do justice one day in five
years." Theopompus answered a stranger who talked much of his
affection to the Lacedaemonians, and said that his countrymen called
him Philolacon (a lover of the Lacedaemonians), that it had been more
for his honor if they had called him Philopolites (a lover of his own
countrymen). And Plistoanax, the son of Pausanias, when an orator
of Athens, said the Lacedaemonians had no learning, told him, "You
say true, Sir ; we alone of all the Greeks have learned none of your bad
qualities." One asked Archidamidas what number there might be of
the Spartans ; he answered, "Enough, Sir, to keep out wicked men."

We may see their character, too, in their very jests. For they
did not throw them out at random, but the very wit of them was
grounded upon something or other worth thinking about. For instance,
one, being asked to go hear a man who exactly counterfeited the voice
of a nightingale, answered, "Sir, I have heard the nightingale itself."
Another, having read the following inscription upon a tomb,

126 INSTITUTIONS

Seeking to quench a cruel tyranny,
They, at Selinus, did in battle die,

said, it served them right ; for instead of trying to quench the tyranny
they should have let it burn out. A lad, being offered some game-cocks
that would die upon the spot, said that he cared not for cocks that
would die, but for such that would live and kill others. Another, seeing
people easing themselves on seats, said, "God forbid I should sit where
I could not get up to salute my elders." In short, their answers were
so sententious and pertinent, that one said well that intellectual much
more truly than athletic exercise was the Spartan characteristic.

Nor was their instruction in music and verse less carefully attended
to than their habits of grace and good breeding in conversation. And
their very songs had a life and spirit in them that inflamed and pos-
sessed men's minds with an enthusiasm and ardor for action ; the style
of them was plain and without affectation ; the subject always serious
and moral ; most usually, it was in praise of such men as had died in
defence of their country, or in derision of those that had been cowards ;
the former declared happy and glorified; the life of the latter they
described as most miserable and abject. There were also vaunts of what
they would do, and Boasts of what they had done, varying with the
various ages, as, for example, they had three choirs in their solemn
festivals, the first of the old men, the second of the young men, and the
last of the children ; the old men began thus :

We once were young, and brave and strong;
the young men answered them, singing,

And we're so now, come on and try;
the children came last and said,

But we'll be strongest by and by.

Indeed, if we will take the pains to consider their compositions,
some of which were still extant in our days, and the airs on the flute
to which they marched when going to battle, we shall find that Ter-
pendar and Pindar had reason to say that music and valor were allied
The first says of Lacedaemon —

The spear and song in her do meet,
And Justice walks about her street;

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and Pindar —

Councils of wise elders here,

And the young men's conquering spear,

And dance, and song, and joy appear;

both describing the Spartans as no less musical than warlike; in the
words of one of their own poets —

With the iron stern and sharp
Comes the playing on the harp.

For, indeed, before they engaged in battle, the king first did sacrifice
to the Muses, in all likelihood to put them in mind of the manner of
their education, and of the judgment that would pass upon their
actions, and thereby to animate them to the performance of exploits that
should deserve a record. At such times, too, the Lacedaemonians abated
a little the severity of their manners in favor of their young men, suf-
fering them to curl and adorn their hair, and to have costly arms, and
fine clothes; and were well pleased to see them, like proud horses,
neighing and pressing to the course. And therefore, as soon as they
came to be well-grown, they took a great deal of care of their hair, to
have it parted and trimmed, especially against a day of battle, pursuant
to a saying recorded of their lawgiver, that a large head of hair added
beauty to a good face, and terror to an ugly one.

When they were in the field, their exercises were generally more
moderate, their fare not so hard, nor so strict a hand held over them
by their officers, so that they were the only people in the world to whom
war grave repose. When their army was drawn up in battle array and
the enemy near, the king sacrificed a goat, commanded the soldiers to
set their garlands upon their heads, and the pipers to play the tune of
the hymn to Castor, and himself began the paean of advance. It was
at once a magnificent and a terrible sight to see them march on to the
tune of their flutes, without any disorder in their ranks, any discom>
posure in their minds or change in their countenance, calmly and cheer-
fully moving with the music to the deadly fight. Men, in this temper,
were not likely to be possessed with fear or any transport of fury, but
with the deliberate valor of hope and assurance, as if some divinity were
attending and conducting them. The king had always about his person
some one who had been crowned in the Olympic games ; and upon this
account a Lacedaemonian is said to have refused a considerable present,
which was offered to him upon condition that he would not come into

128 INSTITUTIONS

the lists ; and when he had with much to-do thrown his antagonist, some
of the spectators saying to him, "And now, Sir Lacedaemonian, what
are you the better for your victory?" he answered smiling, "I shall fight
next the king." After they had routed an enemy, they pursued him till
they were well assured of the victory, and then they sounded a retreat,
thinking it base and unworthy of a Grecian people to cut men in pieces,
who had given up and abandoned all resistance. This manner of deal-
ing with their enemies did not only show magnanimity, but was politic
too ; for, knowing that they killed only those who made resistance, and
gave quarter to the rest, men generally thought it their best way to
consult their safety by flight.

Hippias the sophist says that Lycurgus himself was a great soldier
and an experienced commander. Philostephanus attributes to him the
first division of the cavalry into troops of fifties in a square body ; but
Demetrius the Phalerian says quite the contrary, and that he made all
his laws in a continued peace. And, indeed, the Olympic holy truce, or
cessation of arms, that was procured by his means and management,
inclines me to think him a kind-natured man, and one that loved quiet-
ness and peace. Notwithstanding all this, Hermippus tells us that he
had no hand in the ordinance ; that Iphitus made it, and Lycurgus came
only as a spectator, and that by mere accident too. Being there, he
heard as it were a man's voice behind him, blaming and wondering at
him that he did not encourage his countrymen to resort to the assembly,
and, turning about and seeing no man, concluded that it was a voice
from heaven, and upon this immediately went to Iphitus, and assisted
him in ordering the ceremonies of that feast, which, by his means, were
better established, and with more repute than before.

To return to the Lacedaemonians. Their discipline continued still
after they were full-grown men. No one was allowed to live after his
own fancy ; but the city was a sort of camp, in which every man had his
share of provisions and business set out, and looked upon himself not
so much born to serve his own ends as the interest of his country.
Therefore, if they were commanded nothing else, they went to see the
boys perform their exercises, to teach thm something useful, or to
learn it themselves of those who knew better. And, indeed, one of the
greatest and highest blessings Lycurgus procured his people was the
abundance of leisure, which proceeded from his forbidding to them
the exercise of any mean and mechanical trade. Of the money-making
that depends on troublesome going about and seeing people and doing
business, they had no need at all in a state where wealth obtained no

INSTITUTIONS 129

honor or respect. The Helots tilled their ground for them, and paid
them yearly in kind the appointed quantity, without any trouble of
theirs. To this purpose there goes a story of a Lacedaemonian who,
happening to be at Athens when the courts were sitting, was told of a
citizen that had been fined for living an idle life, and was being escorted
home in much distress of mind by his condoling friends ; the Lacedae-
monian was much surprised at it, and desired his friend to show him
the man who was condemned for living like a freeman. So much
beneath them did they esteem the frivolous devotion of time and atten-
tion to the mechanical arts and to money-making.

It need not be said, that, upon the prohibition of gold and silver,
all law-suits immediately ceased, for there was now neither avarice nor
poverty amongst them, but equality, where every one's wants were sup-
plied, and independence, because those wants were so small. All their
time, except when they were in the field, was taken up by the choral
dances and the festivals, in hunting, and in attendance on the exercise-
grounds and the places of public conversation. Those who were under
thirty years of age were not allowed to go into the market-place, but
had the necessaries of their family supplied by the care of their rela-
tions and lovers ; nor was if for the credit of elderly men to be seen
too often in the market-place ; it was esteemed more suitable for them
to frequent the exercise-grounds and places of conversation, where they
spent their leisure rationally in conversation, not on money-making and
market-prices, but for the most part in passing judgment on some
action worth considering ; extolling the good, and censuring those who
were otherwise, and that in a light and sportive manner, conveying,
without too much gravity, lessons of advice and improvement. Nor
was Lycurgus himself unduly austere; it was he who dedicated, says
Sosibius, the little statue of Laughter. Mirth, introduced seasonably
at their suppers and places of common entertainments, was to serve
as a sort of sweetmeat to accompany their strict and hard life. To con-
clude, he bred up his citizens in such a way that they neither would nor
could live by themselves ; they were to make themselves one with the
public good, and, clustering like bees around their commander, be by
their zeal and public spirit carried all but out of themselves, and devoted
wholly to their country. What their sentiments were will better appear
by a few of their sayings. Paedaretus, not being admitted into the list
of the three hundred, returned home with a joyful face, well pleased to
find that there were in Sparta three hundred better men than himself.
And Polycratidas, being sent with some others ambassador to the lieu-

130 INSTITUTIONS

tenants of the king of Persia, being asked by them whether they came
in a private or in a public character, answered, "In a public, if we suc-
ceed ; if not, in a private character." Argileonis, asking some who came
from Amphipolis if her son Brasidas died courageously and as became
a Spartan, on their beginning to praise him to a high degree, and saying
there was not such another left in Sparta, answered, "Do not say so;
Brasidas was a good and brave man, but there are in Sparta many
better than he."

The senate, as I said before, consisted of those who were Lycur-
gus' chief aiders and assistants in his plans. The vacancies he ordered
to be supplied out of the best and most deserving men past sixty years
old, and we need not wonder if there was much striving for it ; for what
more glorious competition could there be amongst men, than one in
which it was not contested who was swiftest among the swift or strong-
est of the strong, but who of many wise and good was wisest and best,
and fittest to be intrusted for ever after, as the reward of his merits,
with the supreme authority of the commonwealth, and with power over
the lives, franchises, and highest interests of all his countrymen? The
manner of their election was as follows: the people being called to-
gether, some selected persons were locked up in a room near the place
of election, so contrived that they could neither see nor be seen, but
could only hear the noise of the assembly without ; for they decided this,
as most other affairs of moment, by the shouts of the people. This
done, the competitors were not brought in and presented all together,
but one after another by lot, and passed in order through the assembly
without speaking a word. Those who were locked up had writing-
tables with them, in which they recorded and marked each shout by its
loudness, without knowing in favor of which candidate each of them
was made, but merely that they came first, second, third, and so forth.
He who was found to have the most and loudest acclamations was
declared senator duly. elected. Upon this he had a garland set upon his
head, and went in procession to all the temples to give thanks to the
gods ; a great number of young men followed him with applauses, and
women, also, singing verses in his honor, and extolling the virtue and
happiness of his life. As he went round the city in this manner, each
of his relations and friends set a table before him, saying, "The city
honors you with this banquet;" but he, instead of accepting, passed
round to the common table where he formerly used to eat, and was
served as before, excepting that now he had a second allowance, which
he took and put by. By the time supper was ended, the women who

INSTITUTIONS 131

were of kin to him had come about the door ; and he, beckoning to her
whom he most esteemed, presented to her the portion he had saved, say-
ing, that it had been a mark of esteem to him, and was so now to her ;
upon which she was triumphantly waited upon home by the women.

Touching burials, Lycurgus made very wise regulations ; for, first
of all, to cut off all superstition, he allowed them to bury their dead
within the city, and even round about their temples, to the end that their
youth might be accustomed to such spectacles, and not be afraid to see
a dead body, or imagine that to touch a corpse or to tread upon a grave
would defile a man. In the next place, he commanded them to put
nothing into the ground with them, except, if they please, a few olive
leaves, and the scarlet cloth that they were wrapped in. He would not
suffer the names to be inscribed, except only of men who fell in the
wars, or women who died in a sacred office. The time, too, appointed
for mourning, was very short, eleven days ; on the twelfth, the}- were to
do sacrifice to Ceres, and leave it off ; so that we may see, that as he cut
off all superfluity, so in things necessary there was nothing so smafl and
trivial which did not express some homage of virtue or scorn of vice.
He filled Lacedaemon all through with proofs and examples of good
conduct; with the constant sight of which from their youth up, the
people would hardly fail to be gradually formed and advanced in virtue.

And this was the reason why he forbade them to travel abroad,
and go about acquainting themselves with foreign rules of morality,
the habits of ill-educated people, and different views of government.
Withal he banished from Lacedaemon all strangers who could not give
a very good reason for their coming thither ; not because he was afraid
lest they should inform themselves of and imitate his manner of gov-
ernment (as Thucydides says), or learn anything to their good; but
rather lest they should introduce something contrary to good manners.
With strange people, strange words must be admitted ; these novelties
produce novelties in thought; and on these follow views and feelings
whose discordant character destroys the harmony of the state. He
was as careful to save his city from the infection of foreign bad habits,
as men usually are to prevent the introduction of a pestilence.

Hitherto I, for my part, see no sign of injustice or want of equity
in the laws of Lycurgus, though some who admit them to be well con-
trived to make good soldiers, pronounce them defective in point of
justice. The Cryptia, perhaps (if it were one of Lycurgus' ordinances,
as Aristotle says it was), gave both him and Plato, too, this opinion
alike of the law-giver and his government. By this ordinance, the

132 INSTITUTIONS

magistrates despatched privately some of the ablest of the young men
into the country, from time to time, armed only with their daggers,
and taking a little necessary provision with them ; in the daytime, they
hid themselves in out-of-the-way places, and there lay close, but, in the
night, issued out into the highways, and killed all the Helots they could
light upon ; sometimes they set upon them by day, as they were at work
in the fields, and murdered them. As, also, Thucydides, in his history
of the Peloponnesian war, tells us, that a good number of them, after
being singled out for their bravery by the Spartans, garlanded, as
enfranchised persons, and led about to all the temples in token of
honors, shortly after disappeared all of a sudden, being about the num-
ber of two thousand ; and no man then or since could give an account
how they came by their deaths. And Aristotle, in particular, adds, that
the ephori, so soon as they were entered into their office, used to declare
war against them, that they might be massacred without a breach of
religion. It is confessed, on all hands, that the Spartans dealt with
them very hardly ; for it was a common thing to force them to drink to
excess, and to lead them in that condition into their public halls, that
the children might see what a sight a drunken man is ; they made them
to dance low dances, and sing ridiculous songs, forbidding them ex-
pressly to meddle with any of the better kind. And, accordingly, when
the Thebans made their invasion into Laconia, and took a great number
of the Helots, they could by no means persuade them to sing the verses
of Terpander, Alcman, or Spendon, "For," said they, "the masters do
not like it." So that it was truly observed by one, that in Sparta he
who was free was most so, and he that was a slave there, the greatest
slave in the world. For my part, I am of opinion that these outrages
and cruelties began to be exercised in Sparta at a later time, especially
after the great earthquake, when the Helots made a general insurrec-
tion, and, joining with the Messenians, laid the country waste, and
brought the greatest danger upon the city. For I cannot persuade my-
self to ascribe to Lycurgus so wicked and barbarous a course, judging
of him from the gentleness of his disposition and justice upon all other
occasions ; to which the oracle also testified.

When he perceived that his more important institutions had taken
root in the minds of his countrymen, that custom had rendered them
familiar and easy, that his commonwealth was now grown up and able
to go alone, then, as, Plato somewhere tells us, the Maker of the world,
when first he saw it existing and beginning its motion, felt joy, even so
Lycurgus, viewing with joy and satisfaction the greatness and beauty

INSTITUTIONS 133

of his political structure, now fairly at work and in motion, conceived
the thought to make it immortal too, and, as far as human forecast could
reach, to deliver it down unchangeable to posterity. He called an
extraordinary assembly of all the people, and told them that he now
thought everything reasonably well established, both for the happiness
and the virtue of the state; but that there was one thing still behind,
of the greatest importance, which he thought not fit to impart until he
had consulted the oracle; in the mean time, his desire was that they
would observe the laws without any the least alteration until his return,
and then he would do as the god should direct him. They all consented
readily, and bade him hasten his journey; but, before he departed, he
administered an oath to the two kings, the senate, and the whole com-
mons, to abide by and maintain the established form of polity until
Lycurgus should be come back. This done, he set out for Delphi, and,
having sacrificed to Apollo, asked him whether the laws he had estab-
lished were good, and sufficient for a people's happiness and virtue.
The oracle answered that the laws were excellent, and that the people,
while it observed them, should live in the height of renown. Lycurgus
took the oracle in writing, and sent it over to Sparta; and, having
sacrificed the second time to Apollo, and taken leave of his friends and
his son, he resolved that the Spartans should not be released from the
oath they had taken, and that he would, of his own act, close his life
where he was. He was now about that age in which life was still toler-
able, and yet might be quitted without regret. Every thing, moreover,
about him was in a sufficiently prosperous condition. He, therefore,
made an end of himself by a total abstinence from food ; thinking it a
statesman's duty to make his very death, if possible, an act of service to
the state, and even in the end of his life to give some example of virtue
and effect some useful purpose. He would, on the one hand, crown
and consummate his own happiness by a death suitable to so honorable
a life, and, on the other, would secure to his countrymen the enjoyment
of the advantages he had spent his life in obtaining for them, since they
had solemnly sworn the maintenance of his institutions until his return.
Nor was he deceived in his expectations, for the city of Lacedsemon
continued the chief city of all Greece for the space of five hundred
years, in strict observance of Lycurgus's laws ; in all which time there
was no manner -of alteration made, during the reign of fourteen kings,
down to the time of Agis, the son of Archidamus. For the new creation
of the ephori, though thought to be in favor of the people, was so far
from diminishing, that it very much heightened, the aristocratical char-

134 INSTITUTIONS

acter of the government.

In the time of Agis,gold and silver first flowed into Sparta, and with
them all those mischiefs which attend the immoderate desire of riches.
Lysander promoted this disorder; for, by bringing in rich spoils from
the wars, although himself incorrupt, he yet by this means filled his
country with avarice and luxury, and subverted the laws and ordinances
of Lycurgus; so long as which were in force, the aspect presented by
Sparta was rather that of a rule of life followed by one wise and tem-
perate man, than of the political government of a nation. And as the
poets feign of Hercules, that, with his lion's skin and his club, he went
over the world, punishing lawless and cruel tyrants, so may it be said
of the Lacedaemonians, that, with a common staff and a coarse coat,
they gained the willing and joyful obedience of Greece, through whose
whole extent they suppressed unjust usurpations and despotisms, arbi-
trated in war, and composed civil dissensions; and this often without
so much as taking down one buckler, but barely by sending some one
single deputy ,to whose direction all at once submitted, like bees swarm-,
ing and taking their places around their prince. Such a fund of order
and equity, enough and to spare for others, existed in their state.

And therefore I cannot but wonder at those who say that the
Spartans were good subjects, but bad governors, and for proof of it
allege a saying of king Theopompus, who, when one said that Sparta
held up so long because their kings could command so well, replied,
"Nay, rather because the people know so well how to obey." For people
do not obey, unless rulers know how to command ; obedience is a lesson
taught by commanders. A true leader himself creates the obedience of
his own followers; as it is the last attainment in the art of riding to
make a horse gentle and tractable, so it is of the science of government,
to inspire men with a willingness to obey. The Lacedaemonians inspired
men not with a mere willingness, but with an absolute desire, to be their
subjects. For they did not send petitions to them for ships or money,
or a supply of armed men, but only for a Spartan commander; and,
having obtained one, used him with honor and reverence ; so the Sicil-
ians behaved to Gylippus, the Chalcidians to Brasidas, and all the
Greeks in Asia to Lysander, Callicratidas, and Agesilaus ; they styled
them the composers and chasteners of each people or prince they were
sent to, and had their eyes always fixed upon the city of Sparta itself,
as the perfect model of good manners and wise government. The rest
seemed as scholars, they the masters of Greece ; and to this Stratonicus
pleasantly alluded, when in jest he pretended to make a law that the

INSTITUTIONS 135

Athenians should conduct religious processions and the mysteries, the
Eleans should preside at the Olympic games, and, if either did amiss,
the Lacedsemonians be beaten. Antisthenes, too, one of the scholars
of Socrates, said, in earnest, of the Thebans, when they were elated by
their victory at Leuctra, that they looked like schoolboys who had beaten
their master.

However, it was not the design of Lycurgus that his city should
govern a great many others ; he thought rather that the happiness of
a state, as of a private man, consisted chiefly in the exercise of virtue,
and in the concord of the inhabitants ; his aim therefore, in all his
arrangements, was to make and keep them free-minded, self-dependent,
and temperate. And therefore all those who have written well on
politics, as Plato, Diogenes, and Zeno, have taken Lycurgus for their
model, leaving behind them, however, mere projects and words; where-
as Lycurgus was the author, not in writing but in reality, of a govern-
ment which none else could so much as copy ; and while men in gen-
eral have treated the individual philosophic character as unattainable,
he, by the example of a complete philosophic state, raised himself high
above all other lawgivers of Greece. And so Aristotle says they did
him less honor at Lacedsemon after his death than he deserved, although
he has a temple there, and they offer sacrifices yearly to him as to a god.

It is reported that when his bones were brought home to Sparta his
tomb was struck with lightning; an accident which befell no eminent
person but himself, and Euripides, who was buried at Arethusa in
Macedonia ; and it may serve that poet's admirers as a testimony in his
favor, that he had in this the same fate with that holy man and favorite
of the gods. Some say Lycurgus died in Cirrha; Apollothemis says,
after he had come to Elis; Timseus and Aristoxenus, that he ended
his life in Crete; Aristoxenus adds that his tomb is shown by the
Cretans in the district of Pergamus, near the strangers' road. He left
an only son, Antiorus, on whose death without issue, his family became
extinct. But his relations and friends kept up an annual commemora-
tion of him down to a long time after; and the days of the meeting
were called Lycurgides. Aristocrates, the son of Hipparchus, says that
he died in Crete, and that his Cretan friends, in accordance with his
ov/n request, when they had burned his body, scattered the ashes into
the sea; for fear lest, if his relics should be transported to Lacedsemon,
the people might pretend to be released from their oaths, and make
innovations in the government. Thus much may suffice for the life and
actions of Lycurgus. TRANSLATION OF A. H. CLOUGH.

136

EARLY GREEK THINKERS

THE EARLY GREEK thinkers are important not only because many
details of their thought have force to-day, but because they form the
beginning of a movement, that, continuing almost uninterruptedly since
their own time, constitutes one of the mightiest factors of modern
civilization.

As with the Brahmans in their Upanishads, so with the Greeks,
the continual changes that they saw going on in Nature led them to
seek for that something which, amid all these changing conditions,
remains constant. It was easy to see that some of these alterations,
such, for example, as that of snow or ice to water, water to steam,
wood to fire, or vegetation to earth, were not permanent substitutions
of new substances : hence the Greeks sought to find the underlying
reality back of all such manifestations of nature.

Thales, the Milesian, thought the characteristic of this world-
substance to be life, and the substance itself water; Anaximander,
that the universe has no bounds in space and that all things are supplied
from this infinite store ; Anaximenes, also, that the world-substance
is infinite, but that it is the air; Xenophanes made its peculiarity div-
inity and believed the universe as a whole to be an immovable god;
Herakleitos considered that the reality must have the quality of change
with permanence, that change is a succession of opposites such as heat
and cold in an endless chain, and that the reality itself is fire; Par-
menides insisted that empty space is unthinkable and that what is is
uncreated, indestructible, everywhere present, and immovable.

Then followed a period during which men tried to harmonize or
combine these various guesses. Empedocles thought there are four

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of new Mibstancrs : he-ncc the Creeks vnijjH to find t!it

reality back of all such manifestation* o£ nanire.

Thales, the Milesian, thought the characteristic of this world-
substance to be life, and the substance itself water; Anaximander,
that the universe has no bounds in space and that all things are supplied
i this infinite r-'orc : Anaximenes, also, that the world-substance
;»\*ir.;re, but that it is *J»c »'- \rn.-j.Vant.-5 ma<1f i\< \.->
f»-» MT>: IwU. v<*d rhe unm*-** a* * \rbot* to tie an iir.im»v»b*r ffod;

EARLY GREEK THINKERS 137

elements, water, air, fire, and earth, with love and hate as the causes
of motion. Anaxagoras put his faith in numberless unanalysable ele-
ments. Leukippos advanced the theory that there are countless atoms
infinite in kind, and that change is only a result of the collision of
atoms. The Pythagoreans, influenced by the certainty of mathemati-
cal conclusions, placed the reality that they sought in the unchang-
ing relations they found to exist between numbers. Zeno re-enforced
Parmenides' theory of the unity of the world by showing the difficul-
ties that are involved in the idea of change itself and in the doctrine
that there are many world-substances.

The fragments that are given below, all the most important ex-
tant, will fill out and make interesting the bare outline traced above.
Besides the details of the philosophic thought of these early wise
men, the fragments will show their efforts in the natural and social
sciences, for it must be understood that in the beginning science was
but a part of philosophy. It has been the history of thought that phil-
osophy first attacks broad questions such as the constitution of the
universe, or the nature and possibility of knowledge, that at the start
it leaps to conclusions, that next questions are developed which the
knowledge of the time cannot answer, that some worker pauses to
explore the tributary stream which philosophy has thus disclosed, and
lo! a new science is discovered.

So in Greece, after these attempts to divine at a bound the nature
of true reality, men began to apply philosophy to life and to inquire
whether there is any certain foundation for knowledge or religion
or law. The Sophists argued against any such sure foundations.
Protagoras contended that consciousness consists entirely of percep-
tions, and that our perceptions notoriously do not give us the things
themselves (for example, sound is the effect of vibrations in the air) ;
hence that all things are as it were merely a matter of taste, that each
man is the "measure of all things" and that certain knowledge, or
science, is impossible. Socrates, on the other hand, believed that in-
dividual things could be grouped into classes, perceptions into con-
ceptions, and that we may make a general statement of the class that
will always hold good. Hence he made science equivalent to thinking
in concepts, its method a grouping into classes, and its first object a
definition of the group. In religion, he believed that knowledge itself
will bring morality; that sin is ignorance or error, and that a
true perception of the relations of things will see that virtue gives
happiness, wrong-doing punishment. Others after him took up the

V 2-9

138 EARLY GREEK THINKERS

idea of virtue and sought to discover in what it consists. Thus the
Stoics believed it to consist in being above circumstances, in standing
unmoved in the midst of trouble and misfortune; the cynic Diogenes
thought it to be entire freedom from wants and desires, and went back
to a state of nature and lived in a tub; and Epicurus taught that
virtue is only the ability for enjoyment. But after Socrates comes
the great work of Plato and Aristotle, and we must consider these
under separate heads.

THALES

Thales, of Miletus in Asia Minor is supposed to have been the
founder of Greek philosophy. He probably flourished about 585 B. C,
as Herodotus says that he foretold the eclipse most likely of that date,
which put an end to the war between the Medes and Lydians. This
he is thought to have done by using the cycle of 223 lunar months made
out by the Babylonians, during which period eclipses of the surl and
moon recur at equal intervals, although they may or may not be visable
at any given spot on the earth's surface. He visited Egypt and brought
back some knowledge of mensuration. Whether he wrote anything
is a question, but it seems indubitable that he believed water to be the
basis of all things, as all agree in ascribing this doctrine to him.

I. Thales, then, as Herodotus and Duris and Democritus say,
was the son of Euxamius and Cleobule ; of the family of the Thelidae,
who are Phoenicians by descent, among the most noble of all the
descendants of Cadmus and Agenor, as Plato testifies. And he was the
first man to whom the name of Wise was given, when Damasius was
Archon at Athens, in whose time also the seven wise men had that title
given to them, as Demetrius Phalereus records in his Catalogue of the
Archons. He was enrolled as a citizen at Miletus when he came
thither with Neleus, who had been banished from Phoenicia ; but a more
common statement is that he was a native Milesian, of noble extraction.

II. After having been immersed in state affairs he applied him-
self to speculations in natural philosophy ; though, as some people state,
he left no writings behind him, for the book on Naval Astronomy,
which is attributed to him is said in reality to be the work of Focus the
Samian. But Callimachus was aware that he was the discoverer of

EARLY GREEK THINKERS 139

the Lesser Bear ; for in his Iambics he speaks of him thus :

And, he, 'tis said, did first compute the stars
Which beam in Charles's wain, and guide the bark
Of the Phoenician sailor o'er the sea.

According to others he wrote two books, and no more, about the solstice
and the equinox ; thinking that everything else was easily to be com-
prehended. According to other statements, he is said to have been the
first who studied astronomy, and who foretold the eclipses and motions
of the sun, as Eudemus relates in his history of the discoveries made in
astronomy; on which account Xenophanes and Herodotus praise him
greatly; and Heraclitus and Democritus confirm this statement.

III. Some again (one of whom is Chaerilus the poet) say that he
was the first person who affirmed that the souls of men were immortal ;
and he was the first person, too, who discovered the path of the
sun from one end of the ecliptic to the other ; and who, as one account
tells us, defined the magnitude of the sun as being seven hundred and
twenty times as great as that of the moon. He was also the first person
who called the last day of the month the thirtieth. And likewise the
first to converse about natural philosophy, as some say. But Aristotle
and Hippias say that he attributed souls also to lifeless things, forming
his conjecture from the nature of the magnet, and of amber.

VI. He asserted water to be the principle of all things, and that
the world had life, and was full of demons ; they say, too, that he
was the original definer of the seasons of the year, and that it was he
who divided the year into three hundred and sixty-five days. And he
never had any teacher except during the time that he went to Egypt,
and associated with the priests. Hieronymus also says that he measured
the Pyramids : watching their shadow, and calculating when they were
of the same size as that was. He lived with Thrasybulus the tyrant of
Miletus, as we are informed by Minyas.

IX. These are quoted as some of his lines : —

It is not many words that real wisdom proves ;

Breathe rather one wise thought,

Select one worthy object,
So shall you best the endless prate of silly men reprove. —

And the following are quoted as saying of his: — "God is the most
ancient of all things, for he had no birth : the world is the most beautiful
of things, for it is the work of God; place is the greatest of things,

140 EARLY GREEK THINKERS

for it contains all things: intellect is the swiftest of things, for
it runs through everything: necessity is the strongest of things, for
it rules everything : time is the wisest of things, for it finds out every-
thing."

He said also that there was no difference between life and death.
"Why, then," said some one to him, "do not you die?" "Because," said
he, "it does make no difference." A man asked him which was made
first, night or day, and he replied, "Night was made first by one day."
Another man asked him whether a man who did wrong, could escape
the notice of the gods. "No, not even if he thinks wrong," said he.
An adulterer inquired of him whether he should swear that he had not
committed adultery. "Perjury," said he, "is no worse than adultery."
When he was asked what was very difficult, he said, "To know one's
self." And what was easy, "To advise another." What was most
pleasant? "To be successful." To the question, "What is the divin-
ity?" he replied, "That which has neither beginning nor end." When
asked what hard thing he had seen, he said, "An old man a tyrant."
When the question was put to him how a man might most easily endure
misfortune, he said, "If he saw his enemies more unfortunate still."
When asked how men might live most virtuously and most justly, he
said, "If we never do ourselves what we blame in others." To the
question, "Who was happy?" he made answer, "He who is healthy in
his body, easy in his circumstances, and well-instructed as to his mind."
He said that men ought to remember those friends who were absent
as well as those who were present, and not to care about adorning their
faces, but to be beautified by their studies. "Do not," said he, "get rich
by evil actions, and let not any one ever be able to reproach you with
speaking against those who partake of your friendship. All the assist-
ance that you give to your parents, the same you have a right to expect
from your children." He said that the reason of the Nile overflowing
was, that its streams were beaten back by the Etesian winds blowing
in a contrary direction. — Diogenes Laertius.

TRANSLATION OF C. D. YONGE.

ANAXIMANDER

Anaximander was also a citizen of Miletus. He was born 610 B.
C. He was one of the first to construct a map of the world. In philo-
sophy he belonged to the school of Thales. Most of the extant frag-

EARLY GREEK THINKERS 141

ments of his writings come from Theophrastus. He was still alive at
the fall of Sardis in 546 B. C. He mounted from the particular to the
general and taught that the world is infinite in space and time.

FRAGMENTS

Anaximander of Miletus, son of Praxiades, a fellow-citizen and
associate of Thales, said that the material cause and first element of
things was the Infinite, he being the first to introduce this name for
the material cause. He says it is neither water nor any other of what
are now called the elements, but a substance different from them which
is infinite, from which arise all the heavens and the worlds within them.
— Phys. Op. fr. 2 (Diels Doxographi Graeci p. 476; Ritter's Historia
Philosophiae Graecae 12).

He says that this is eternal and ageless, and that it encompasses
all the worlds. — Hippolytos, Refutation of all Heresies i. 6 (R. P. I3a).

And into that from which things take their rise they pass away
once more, "as is ordained ; for they make reparation and satisfaction
to one another for their injustice according to the appointed time,"
as he says in these somewhat poetical terms. — Phys. Op. fr. 2 (R. P.

12).

And besides this, there was an eternal motion, in the course of
which was brought about the origin of the worlds. — Hipp. Ref. i. 6
(R. P. I3a).

He did not ascribe the origin of things to any alteration in matter,
but said that the oppositions in the substratum, which was a boundless
Body, were separated out. — Simplicius Phys. p. 150 D (R. P. I4a).

He says that something capable of begetting hot and cold was
separated off from the eternal at the origin of this world. From this
arose a sphere of flame which grew round the air encircling the earth,
as the bark grows round a tree. When this was broken up and en-
closed in certain rings, the sun, moon, and stars came into existence.
— Pseudo Plutarch Stromateis fr. 2 (R. P. 14 B).

The heavenly bodies are wheels of fire separated off from the fire
which encircles the world, and surrounded by air. And they have
breathing-holes, certain pipe-like openings through which the heav-
enly bodies are seen. For this reason, too, when the breathing-holes
are stopped, eclipses occur. And the moon appears now to wax and
now to wane because of the stopping and opening of the outlets. The
circle of the sun is twenty-seven times the size (of the earth, while
that) of the moon (is eighteen times as large). The sun is highest of

142 EARLY GREEK THINKERS

all, and lowest are the wheels of the fixed stars. — Hipp. Ref. i. 6 (R.
P. 14 C).

Anaximander said the stars were hoop-like compressions of airj
full of fire, breathing out flames at a certain point from orifices. The
sun was highest of all, after it came the moon, and below these the
fixed stars and the planets. — Aetios=Stobaios Ekl. i. 510 (R. P. I4b).

Anaximander said the sun was a ring twenty-eight times the size
of the earth, like a cart-wheel with the felloe hollow and full of fire,
showing the fire at a certain point, as if through the nozzle of a pair
of bellows. — Aetios=Placita n. 20. i (R. P. I4b).

Anaximander held that thunder and lightning were caused by the
blast. When it is shut up in a thick cloud and bursts forth with vio-
lence, then the breakage of the cloud makes the noise, and the rift
gives the appearance of a flash by contrast with the darkness of the
cloud. — Aet. iii. 3. i (Dox. p. 367).

Anaximander held that wind was a current of air (i.e. mist) which
arose when its finest and moistest particles were set in motion or dis-
solved by the sun. — Aet. iii. 6. I (Dox. p. 374).

Rain was produced by the moisture drawn up from the earth by
the sun. — Hipp. Ref. i. 6, 7 (Dox. p. 560).

The sea is what is left of the original moisture. The fire has dried
up most of it and turned the rest salt by scorching it. — Aet.=Plac. iii.
16. I (R. P. I4c).

He says that the earth is cylindrical in form, and that its height
is as a third part of its width. — Ps.-Plut. Strom, fr. 2 (R. P. ib.).

The earth swings free, held in its place by nothing. It stays where
it is because of its equal distance from anything. Its shape is convex
and round, and like a stone pillar (?). We are on one of the surfaces,
and the other is on the opposite side. — Hipp. Ref. i. 6 (R. P. 14 C).

Living creatures arose from the moist element as it was evapor-
ated by the sun. Man was like another animal, namely, a fish, in the
beginning.— Hipp. Ref. i. 6 (R. P. i6a).

Further, he says that in the beginning man was born from ani-
mals of a different species. His reason is, that, while other ani-
mals quickly find food for themselves, man alone requires a prolonged
period of sucking. Hence, had he been originally such as he is now,
he could never have survived. — Ps.-Plut. Strom, fr. 2 (R. P. 16).

The first living creatures were produced in the moist element,
and were covered with prickly integuments. As time went on they
came out upon the drier part, and, the integument soon breaking off,

EARLY GREEK THINKERS 143

they changed their manner of life. — Aet^Plac. v. 19. i (R. P. ib.).

TRANSLATIONS OF JOHN BURNET,

ANAXIMENES

Anaximenes, like Thales and Anaximander, was a Milesian. He
lived in the latter half of the sixth century B. C., and is the last of the
Milesian philosophers, as the school was broken up with the fall of the
city, in 494 B. C. He thought air would satisfy the quality of infinity
demanded by Anaximander, and tried to show how it gave rise to the
phenomena of the world.

FRAGMENTS

Anaximenes of Miletus, son of Eurystratos, who had been an
associate of Anaximander, said, like him, that the underlying sub-
stance was one and infinite. He did not, however, say it was indeter-
minate, like Anaximander, but determinate ; for he said it was Air. —
Phys. Op. fr. 3 (Box. p. 476, R. P. 19 B).

From it, he said, the things that are, and have been, and shall be,
the gods and things divine, took their rise, while other things come
from its offspring. — Hipp. Ref. i. 7 (R. P. 21).

"Just as," he said, "our soul, being air, holds us together, so do
breath and air encompass the whole world." — Aet. i. 3. 4 (R. P. 18).

And the form of the air is as follows. Where it is most even, it
is invisible to our sight; but cold and heat, moisture and motion,
make it visible. It is always in motion ; for, if it were not, it would
not change so much as it does. — Hipp. Ref. I.e. (R. P. 21).

It differs in different substances in virtue of its rarefaction and
condensation. — Simpl. Phys. p. 24 D (R. P. 19 B).

When it is dilated so as to be rarer, it becomes fire ; while winds,
on the other hand, are condensed Air. Cloud is formed from Air by
"felting;" and this, still further condensed, becomes water. Water,
condensed still more, turns to earth; and when condensed as much
as it can be, to stones. — Hipp. Ref. I.e. (R. P. 21).

He says that, as the air was "felted," the earth first came into
being. It is very broad, and is accordingly supported by the air. —
Ps.-Plut. Strom, fr. 3 (R. P. 19 A).

144 EARLY GREEK THINKERS

In the same way, the sun and the moon and the other heavenly
bodies, which are of a fiery nature, are supported by the air because
of their breadth. The heavenly bodies were produced from the earth
by moisture rising from it. When this is rarefied, fire comes into
being, and the stars are composed of the fire thus raised aloft. There
were also bodies of earthy substance in the region of the stars, revolv-
ing along with them. And he says that the heavenly bodies do not
move under the earth, as others suppose, but round it, as a cap turns
round our head. The sun is hidden from sight, not because it goes
under the earth, but because it is concealed by the higher parts of
the earth, and because its distance from us becomes greater. The
stars give no heat because of the greatness of their distance.

Winds are produced when condensed air rushes into rarefied ;
but when it is concentrated and thickened still more, clouds are gen-
erated; and, lastly, it turns to water. — Hipp. Ref. i. 7 (R. P. 21).

The stars are fixed like nails in the crystalline vault of the heav-
ens.— Act. ii. 14. 3 (Dox. p. 344).

They do not go under the earth, but turn round it. — Ibid, i. 16.
6 (Dox. p. 346).

The sun is fiery. — Ib. 20. 2 (Dox. p. 348;.

It is broad like a leaf. — Ib. 22. i (Dox. p. 352).

The heavenly bodies are diverted from their courses by the re-
sistance of compressed air. — Ib. 23. i (Dox. p. 352).

The moon is of fire. — Ib. 25. 2 (Dox. p. 356).

Anaximenes explained lightning like Anaximander (p. 142), add-
ing as an illustration what happens in the case of the sea, which
flashes when divided by the oars. — Act. iii. 3. 2 (Dox. p. 368).

Hail is produced when water freezes in falling ; snow, when there
is some air imprisoned in the water. — Ib. 4. i (Dox. p. 370)-

The rainbow is produced when the beams of the sun fall on thick
condensed air. Hence the anterior part of it seems red, being burnt
by the sun's rays, while the other part is dark, owing to the predom-
inance of moisture. And he says that a rainbow is produced at night
by the moon; but not often, because there is net constantly a full
moon, and because the moon's light is weaker than that of the sun.
— Schol. Arat. (Dox. p. 231).

The earth was like the slab of a table in shape. — Act. iii. 10. 3
(Dox. p. 377).

The cause of earthquakes was the dryness and moisture of the

EARLY GREEK THINKERS 145

earth, occasioned by droughts and heavy rains respectively. — Ib. 15.
3 (Box. p. 379).

TRANSLATIONS OF JOHN BURNET.

PYTHAGORAS

Pythagoras must be distinguished from the Pythagoreans. He
seems himself to have been a good deal of a "medicine man", although
he founded a religious order, which, for a time, held the political power
in Croton, and afterwards became famous for its theories in mathe-
matics. Pythagoras was born in Samnos around 570 B. C, but left
there on account of the tyranny of Polycrates, and established his order
in Croton in southern Italy. Most of the stories that have gathered
about his life are later inventions. It is even uncertain whether he
visited Egypt. It will be seen from the fragments that many of his
rules bear a close resemblance to the taboos of an Indian medicine -man.

FRAGMENTS

XVII. Now, what he called his symbols were such as these.
"Do not stir the fire with a sword." "Do not sit down on a bushel."
"Do not devour your heart." "Do not aid men in discarding a burden,
but in increasing one." "Always have your bed packed up." "Do not
bear the image of a god on a ring." "Efface the traces of a pot in the
ashes." "Do not wipe a seat with a lamp." "Do not walk in the main
street." "Do not offer your right hand lightly." "Do not cherish
swallows under your roof." "Do not cherish birds with crooked
talons." "Do not defile; and do not stand upon the parings of your
nails, or the cuttings of your hair." "Avoid a sharp sword." "When
you are travelling abroad, look not back at your own borders." Now
the precept not to stir fire with the sword meant, not to provoke the
anger or swelling pride of powerful men ; not to violate the beam of
the balance meant, not to transgress fairness and justice ; not to sit on
a bushel is to have an equal care for the present and for the future, for
by the bushel is meant one's daily food. By not devouring one's
heart, he intended to show that we ought not to waste away our souls
with grief and sorrow. In the precept that a man when travelling
abroad should not turn his eyes back, he recommended those who were
departing from life not to be desirous to live, and not to be too much
attracted by the pleasures here on earth. And the other symbols may

146 EARLY GREEK THINKERS

be explained in a similar manner, that we may not be too prolix here.

XVIII. And above all things, he used to prohibit the eating of
the erythinus, and the melanurus ; and also, he enjoined his disciples to
abstain from the hearts of animals, and from beans. And Aristotle
informs us, that he sometimes used also to add to these prohibitions
paunches and mullet. And some authors assert that he himself used to
be contented with honey and honeycomb, and bread, and that he never
drank wine in the daytime. And his desert was usually vegetables,
either boiled or raw ; and he very rarely ate fish. His dress was white,
very clean, and his bed-clothes were also white, and woolen, for linen
had not yet been introduced into that country. He was never known
to have eaten too much, or to have drunk too much, or to indulge in
the pleasures of love. He abstained wholly from laughter, and from
all such indulgences as jests and idle stories. And when he was angry,
he never chastised any one, whether slave or freeman. He used to call
admonishing, feeding storks.

He used to practise divination, as far as auguries and auspices go,
but not by means of burnt offerings, except only the burning of frank-
incense. And all the sacrifices which he offered consisted of inanimate
things. But some, however, assert that he did sacrifice animals, limit-
ing himself to cocks, and sucking kids, which are called apalioi, but that
he very rarely offered lamib. Aristoxemus, however, affirms that he
permitted the eating of all other animals and only abstained from oxen
used in agriculture, and from rams.

XENOPHANES

Xenophanes of Colophon was a philosophical satirist of the Greek
idea of many human-like gods. He thought the world to be one un-
changeable God. He was born probably about 571 B. C. Very little
is known of his life, though he was driven from his home by the inva-
sion of the Medes in 540 B. C., and seems to have been still a wanderer
over Hellas in 479 B. C.

FRAGMENTS

1. There is one god, the greatest among gods and men, neither
in form nor thought like unto mortals. R. P. 83.

2. He sees all over, thinks all over, and hears all over. R. P. 85.

EARLY GREEK THINKERS 147

3. But without toil he sways all things by the thought of his
mind. R. P. Sgb.

4. And he abideth ever in the same place, moving not at all;
nor doth it befit him to go about, now hither, now thither. R. P. 90 D.

5. But mortals think that the gods are born as they are, and
have perception like theirs, and voice and form. R. P. 83.

6. Yes, and if oxen or lions had hands, and could paint with
their hands and produce works of art as men do, horses would paint
the forms of the gods like horses, and oxen like oxen. Each would
represent them with bodies according to the form of each. R. P. 83.

6a. So the Ethiopians make their gods black and snubnosed;
the Thracians give theirs red hair and blue eyes. R. P. 83a.

7. Homer and Hesiod have ascribed to the gods all things that
are a shame and a disgrace among men, thefts and adulteries and de-
ception of one another. R. P. 82.

9. For we all arise from earth and water. R. P. 86.

10. All things are earth and water that come into being and
grow. R. P. 86.

11. The sea is the source of water and the source of wind; for
neither would the blasts of winds arise in the clouds and blow forth
from within them without the mighty sea, nor the rivers' streams nor
the rain-water in the sky. But the mighty sea is the father of clouds
and winds and rivers.

12. This limit of the earth above is seen at our feet; but below
its roots stretch to infinity. R. P. 86.

13. She that they call Iris is a cloud likewise, purple, scarlet,
and green to behold. R. P. 86.

14. There never was nor will be a man who has clear certainty
as to what I say about the gods and about all things ; for, even if he
does chance to say what is right, yet he himself does not know that
it is so. But all are free to guess. R. P. 87.

15. These are guesses something like the truth. R. P. 87a.

16. The gods have not shown forth all things to men from the
beginning, but by seeking they gradually find out what is better. R.
P. 87b.

TRANSLATIONS OF JOHN BURNET.

148 EARLY GREEK THINKERS

HERAKLEITOS

We know practically nothing of the life of Herakleitos. He lived
at Ephesos during the last of the sixth and first of the fifth century, B.
C. His ideas, which are very important for the history of thought, are
embodied in the fragments that follow. They teach that the universe
is an eternal series of changes.

FRAGMENTS

1. It is wise to hearken not to me but my argument, and to
confess that all things are one. R. P. 32.

2. Though this discourse is true evermore, yet men are as un-
able to understand it when they hear it for the first time as before
they have heard it at all. For, although all things happen in accord-
ance with the account I give, men seem as if they had no experience
of them, when they make trial of words and works such as I set forth,
dividing each thing according to its nature and explaining how it
truly is. But other men know not what they are doing when you
wake them up, just as they forget what they do when asleep. R. P. 25.

3. Fools when they do hear are like the deaf ; of them does the
proverb bear witness that they are absent when present. R. P. 243.

4. Eyes and ears are bad witnesses to men, if they have souls
that understand not their language. R. P. 34.

5. The many have not as many thoughts as the things they meet
with ; nor, if they do remark them, do they understand them, though
they believe they do.

6. Knowing not how to listen nor how to speak.

7. If you do not expect the unexpected, you will not find it ; for
it is hard to be sought out and difficult.

8. Those who seek for gold dig up much earth and find a little.
R. P. 36b.

10. Nature loves to hide. R. P. 271.

11. The lord whose is the oracle at Delphoi neither utters nor
hides his meaning, but shows it by a sign. R. P. 23a.

12. And the Sibyl, with raving lips uttering things solemn, un-
adorned, and unembellished, reaches over a thousand years with her
voice because of the god in her. R. P. 233.

13. Am I to prize these things above what can be seen, heard,
and learned? R. P. 34.

EARLY GREEK THINKERS 149

14. ... bringing untrustworthy witnesses in support of dis-
puted points.

15. The eyes are more exact witnesses than the ears. R. P. 34-b.

16. The learning of many things teacheth not understanding,
else would it have taught Hesiod and Pythagoras, and again Xeno-
phanes and Hekataios. R. P. 24.

17. Pythagoras, son of Mnesarchos, practised inquiry beyond
all other men, and made himself a wisdom of his own, which was but
a knowledge of many things and an art of mischief. R. P. 243.

18. Of all whose discourses I have heard, there is not one who
attains to understanding that wisdom is apart from other things.

19. Wisdom is one thing. It is to know the thought by which
all things are steered through all things. R. P. 32.

20. This order, which is the same in all things, no one of gods
or men has made ; but it was ever, is now, and ever shall be an ever-
living Fire, fixed measures of it kindling and fixed measures going
out. R. P. 28.

21. The transformations of Fire are, first of all, sea (and half of
the sea is earth, half fiery storm-cloud). . . . R. P. 28b.

22. All things are exchanged for Fire, and Fire for all things,
as wares are exchanged for gold and gold for wares. R. P. 28.

23. (The earth) is liquefied, and the sea is measured by the same
tale as before it became earth. R. P. 31.

24. Fire is want and satiety. R .P. 2pa.

25. Fire lives the death of earth, and air lives the death of fire ;
water lives the death of air, earth that of water. R. P. 30 A.

26. Fire will come upon and lay hold of all things. R. P. 2Qa.

27. How can one hide from that which never sinks to rest?

28. It is the thunderbolt that steers the course of all things.
R. P. 28b.

29. The sun will not exceed his measures ; if he does, the Erin-
yes, the avenging handmaids of Justice, will find him out. R. P. 31.

30. The limit of East and West is the Bear; and opposite the
Bear is the boundary of bright Zeus.

31. If there were no sun, it would be night.

32. The sun is new every day.

34. The seasons that bring all things.

35. Hesiod is most men's teacher. Men think he knew very
many things, a man who did not know day or night ! They are one.
R. P. 3ib.

150 EARLY GREEK THINKERS

36. God is day and night, winter and summer, war and peace,
satiety and hunger; but he takes various shapes, just as fire, when it
is mingled with different incenses, is named according to the savour
of each. R. P. 3ib.

37. If all things were turned to smoke, the nostrils would dis-
tinguish them.

38. Souls smell in Hades. R. P. 38d.

39. It is cold things that become warm, and what is warm that
cools ; what is wet dries, and the parched is moistened.

40. It scatters things and brings them together ; it approaches
and departs.

41. 42. You cannot step twice into the same rivers; for fresh
waters are ever flowing in upon you. R. P. 26a.

43. Homer was wrong in saying: "Would that strife might
perish from among gods and men!" He did not see that he was
praying for the destruction of the universe; for, if his prayer were
heard, all things would pass away. R. P. 27d.

44. War is the father of all and the king of all; and some he
has made gods and some men, some bond and some free. R. P. 27.

45. Men do not know how that which is drawn in different di-
rections harmonises with itself. The harmonious structure of the
world depends upon opposite tension, like that of the bow and the
lyre. R. P. 27.

46. It is opposition that brings things together.

47. The hidden harmony is better than the open. R. P. 27.

48. Let us not conjecture at random about the greatest things.

49. Men who love wisdom must be acquainted with very many
things indeed.

50. The straight and the crooked path of the fuller's comb is one
and the same.

51. Asses would rather have straw than gold. R. P. 24a.

5 1 a. Oxen are happy when they find bitter vetches to eat. R. P.
4ob.

52. The sea is the purest and the impurest water. Fish can
drink it, and it is good for them ; to men it is undrinkable and destruc-
tive. R. P. 39c.

53. 54. Swine like to wash in the mire rather than in clean water,
and barnyard fowls in dust.

55. Every beast is tended with blows.

56. Same as 45.

EARLY GREEK THINKERS 151

57. Good and ill are the same. R. P. 390.

58. Physicians who cut, burn, stab, and rack the sick, then com-
plain that they do not get any adequate recompense for it. R. P. 3QC.

59. You must couple together things whole and things not
whole, what is drawn together and what is drawn asunder, the har-
monious and the discordant. The one is made up of all things, and
all things issue from the one.

60. Men would not have known the name of justice if there were
no injustice.

61. Men themselves have made a law for themselves, not know-
ing what they made it about ; but the gods have ordered the nature of
all things. Now the arrangements which men have made are never
constant, neither when they are right nor when they are wrong; but
all the arrangements which the gods have made are always right, both
when they are right and when they are wrong ; so great is the differ-
ence. R. P. 375.

62. We must know that war is the common and justice is strife,
and that all things come into being and pass away (?) through strife.

63. ... for they are undoubtedly allotted by destiny.

64. All the things we see when awake are death, even as the
things we see in slumber are sleep. R. P. 34b.

65. Wisdom is one only. It is willing and unwilling to be called
by the name of Zeus. R. P. 32.

66. The bow (bios') is called life (bi'os), but its work is death,
R. P. 4oc, note 2.

67. Mortals are immortals and immortals are mortals, the one
living the other's death and dying the other's life. R. P. 38.

68. For it is death to souls to become water, and death to water
to become earth. But water comes from earth ; and, from water, soul.
R. P. 30 B.

69. The way up and the way down is one and the same. R. P. 29 d.

70. The beginning and the end are common (to both paths).

71. You will not find the boundaries of soul by travelling in any
direction. R. P. 33d.

72. It is pleasure to souls to become moist. R. P. 38b.

73. A man, when he gets drunk, is led by a beardless lad, know-
ing not where he steps, having his soul moist. R. P. 34.

74-76. The dry soul is the wisest and best. R. P. 34.

77. Man is kindled and put out like a light in the night-time.

78. The quick and the dead, the waking and the sleeping, the

152 EARLY GREEK THINKERS

young and the old are the same ; the former are changed and become

the latter, and the latter in turn are changed into the former. R. P. 39.

79. Time is a child playing draughts, the kingly power is a
child's. R. P. 32a.

80. I have sought to know myself. R. P. 40.

81. We step and do not step into the same rivers ; we are and are
not. R. P. 26a.

82. It is a weariness to labour at the same things and to be al-
ways beginning afresh.

83. It finds rest in change.

84. Even the ingredients of a posset separate if it is not stirred.

85. Corpses are more fit to be cast out than dung.

86. When they are born, they wish to live and to meet with their
dooms — or rather to rest, and they leave children behind them to meet
with dooms in turn.

87-89. A man may be a grandfather in thirty years.

90. Those who are asleep are fellow-workers. . . .

91. Wisdom is common to all things. Those who speak with
intelligence must hold fast to the common as a city holds fast to its
law, and even more strongly. For all human laws are fed by one
thing, the divine. It prevails as much as it will, and suffices for all
things with something to spare. R. P. 35.

92. Though wisdom is common, yet the many live as if they had
a wisdom of their own. R. P. 36.

93. They are estranged from that with which they have most con-
stant intercourse.

94. It is not meet to eat and speak like men asleep.

95. The waking have one and the same world, but the sleeping
turn aside each into a world of his own.

96. The way of man has no wisdom, but that of the gods has. R.

P. 37-

97. Man is called a baby by god, even as a child by a man. R. P.

37-

98. 99. The wisest man is an ape compared to god, just as the
most beautiful ape is ugly compared to man.

100. The people must fight for its law as for its walls. R. P. 40.

101. Greater deaths win greater portions. R. P. 4od.

102. Gods and men honour those who are slain in battle. R.
P. 4od.

EARLY GREEK THINKERS 153

103. Wantonness needs to be extinguished even more than a
conflagration. R. P. 4od.

104. It is not good for men to get all they wish to get. It is
disease that makes health pleasant and good; hunger, plenty; and
weariness rest. R. P. 4ob.

105-107. It is hard to fight with desire. Whatever it wishes
to get, it purchases at the cost of soul. R. P. 4od.

108, 109. It is best to hide folly ; but it is a hard task in times
of relaxation, over our cups.

no. And it is the law, too, that we obey the counsel of one. R.
P. 4od.

in. For what thought or wisdom have they ? They follow the
poets and take the crowd as their teacher, knowing not that there are
many bad and few good. For even the best of them choose one thing
above all others, immortal glory among mortals, while most of them
fill their bellies like beasts. R. P. 24a.

112. In Priene lived Bias, son of Teutamas, who is of more ac-
count than the rest. (He said, "Most men are bad.")

113. One is as ten thousand to me, if he be the best. R. P. 243.

114. The Ephesians would do well to hang themselves, every
grown man of them, and leave the city to beardless youths ; for they
have cast out Hermodoros, the best man among them, saying: "We
will have none who is best among us ; if there be any such, let him be
so elsewhere and among others." R. P. 22b.

115. Dogs bark at every one they do not know. R. P. 243.

116. ... (The wise man) is not known because of men's want
of belief.

117. The fool is fluttered at every word. R. P. 36b.

1 1 8. The most esteemed of those in estimation knows how to
feign ; yet of a truth justice shall overtake the artificers of lies and the
false witnesses.

1 19. Homer should be turned out of the lists and whipped, and
Archilochos likewise. R. P. 24.

120. One day is equal to another.

121. Man's character is his fate.

122. There await men when they die such things as they look
not for nor dream of. R. P. 38d.

123. . . . that they rise up and become the guardians of the
hosts of the quick and dead. R. P. 38d.

124. Night-walkers, Magians, priests of Bakchos and priestes-

V 2-10

154 EARLY GREEK THINKERS

ses of the wine-vat, mystery-mongers. . . .

125. The mysteries into which men are initiated are unholy. R.
P. 40.

126. And they pray to these images, as if one were to talk with
a man's house, knowing not what gods or heroes are. R. P. 400.

127. For if it were not to Dionysos that they made a procession
and sang the shameful phallic hymn, they would be acting most
shamelessly. But Hades is the same as Dionysos in whose honour
they go mad and keep the feast of the wine-vat. R. P. 406.

129, 130. They purify themselves by defiling themselves with
blood, just as if one who had stepped into the mud were to go and
wash his feet in mud.

His opinions on particular points are these: —

He held that Fire was the element, and that all things were pro-
duced in exchange for fire, and that they arise from condensation
and rarefaction. But he explains nothing clearly. All things were
due to opposition, and all things were in flux like a river. (Given in
Diogenes Laertios.)

The all is infinite and the world is one. It arises from fire, and
is consumed again by fire alternately through all eternity in certain
cycles. This happens according to fate. That which leads to the
becoming of the opposites is called War and Strife ; that which leads
to the final conflagration is Concord and Peace. (This is the Stoic
interpretation.)

He called change the upward and the downward path, and held
that the world goes on according to this. When fire is condensed it
becomes moist, and when collected together it turns to water; water
being congealed turns to earth (the conjecture of Theophrastos) ; and
this he calls the downward path. And, again, the earth is in turn
liquefied, and from it water arises, and from that everything else ; for
he refers almost everything to the evaporation from the sea. This
is the path upwards. R. P. 29.

He held, too, that exhalations arose both from the sea and the
land; some bright and pure, others dark. Fire was nourished by
the bright ones, and moisture by the others.

He does not make it clear what is the nature of that which sur-
rounds the world. He held, however, that there were bowls in it
with the concave sides turned towards us, in which the bright exhala-

EARLY GREEK THINKERS 155

tions were collected and produced flames. These were the heavenly
bodies.

The flame of the sun was the brightest and warmest ; for the other
heavenly bodies were more distant from the earth ; and lor that reason
gave less light and heat. The moon, on the other hand, was nearer
the earth ; but it moved through an impure region. The sun moved
in a bright and unmixed region, and at the same time was at just the
distance from us. That is why it gives more heat and light. The
eclipses of the sun and moon were due to the turning of the bowls
upwards, while the monthly phases of the moon were produced by a
slight turning of its bowl.

Day and night, months and seasons and years, rains and winds,
and things like these, were due to the different exhalations. The
bright exhalation, when ignited in the circle of the sun, produced day,
and the preponderance of the opposite exhalations produced night;
increase of warmth proceeding from the bright exhalation produced
summer, and the multiplication of moisture from the dark exhalation
produced winter. He assigns the causes of other things in conform-
ity with this.

As to the earth, he makes no clear statement about its nature,
any more than he does about that of the bowls.

These, then, were his opinions. R. P. 3ib.

And in turn each (i.e. fire and water) prevails, and is prevailed
over to the greatest and the least degree that is possible. For neither
can prevail altogether for the following reasons. If fire advances to
the utmost limit of the water, its nourishment fails it. It retires,
then, to a place where it can get nourishment. And if water advances
to the utmost limit of the fire, movement fails it. At that point, then,
it stands still ; and, when it stands still, it has no longer power to re-
sist, but is at once consumed as nourishment for the fire that falls
upon it. For these reasons neither can prevail altogether. But, if
at any time either should in any way be overcome, then none of the
things that exist would be as they are now. So long as things are as
they are, fire and water will always be too. and neither will ever fail.
— Ps. -Hipp. De Diaeta, i. 3.

TRANSLATIONS OF JOHN BURNET

156 EARLY GREEK THINKERS

PARMENIDES

Parmenides was born at Elea about 515 B. C. Plato says that,
along with Zeno, Parmenides visited Athens in his sixty-fifth year and
met Socrates, and although the statement is made in a dialogue it prob-
ably records a fact. Parmenides wrote in hexameter verse, and fol-
lowed out the assumption that the universe is a unity to its logical limit.

FRAGMENTS

The steeds that bear me carried me as far as ever my heart de-
sired, since they brought me and set me on the renowned way of the
goddess, who with her own hands conducts the man who knows
through all things. On that way was I borne along; for on it did
the wise steeds carry me, drawing my car, and maidens showed the
way. And the axle, glowing in the socket — for it was urged round by
the whirling wheels at each end — gave forth a sound as of a pipe,
when the daughters of the Sun, hasting to convey me into the light,
threw back their veils from off their faces and left the abode of Night.

There are the gates of the ways of Night and Day, fitted above
with a lintel and below with a threshold of stone. They themselves,
high in the air, are closed by mighty doors, and Avenging Justice
keeps the keys that open them. Her did the maidens entreat with
gentle words and skilfully persuade to unfasten without demur the
bolted bars from the gates. Then, when the doors were thrown
back, they disclosed a wide opening, when their brazen hinges swung
backwards in the sockets fastened with rivets and nails. Straight
through them, on the broad way, did the maidens guide the horses
and the car, and the goddess greeted me kindly, and took my right
hand in hers, and spake to me these words : —

"Welcome, noble youth, that comest to my abode on the car that
bears thee tended by immortal charioteers! It is no ill chance, but
justice and right that has sent thee forth to travel on this way. Far,
indeed, does it lie from the beaten track of men ! Meet it is that thou
shouldst learn all things, as well the unshaken heart of persuasive
truth, as the opinions of mortals in which is no true belief at all. Yet
none the less shalt thou learn of these things also, since thou must
judge approvedly of the things that seem to men as thou goest through
all things in thy journey." R. P. 93.

EARLY GREEK THINKERS 157

THE WAY OF TRUTH

Come now, I will tell thee — and do thou hearken to my saying
and carry it away — the only two ways of search that can be thought
of. The first, namely, that It is, and that it is impossible for anything
not to be, is the way of conviction, for truth is its companion. The
other, namely, that It is not, and that something must needs not be,
that, I tell thee, is a wholly untrustworthy path. For you cannot
know what is not — that is impossible — nor utter it ; for it is the same
thing that can be thought and that can be. R. P. 943.

It needs must be that what can be thought and spoken of is ; for
it is possible for it to be, and it is not possible for what is nothing to
be. This is what I bid thee ponder. I hold thee back from this first
way of inquiry, and from this other also, upon which mortals know-
ing naught wander in two minds ; for hesitation guides the wandering
thought in their breasts, so that they are borne along stupefied like
men deal and blind. Undiscerning crowds, in whose eyes the same
thing and not the same is and is not, and all things travel in opposite
directions ! R. P. gqb.

For this shall never be proved, that the things that are not are;
and do thou restrain thy thought from this way of inquiry. Nor let
habit force thee to cast a wandering eye upon this devious track, or
to turn thither thy resounding ear or thy tongue; but do thou judge
the subtle refutation of their discourse uttered by me. One path only
is left for us to speak of, namely, that It is. In it are very many
tokens that what is, is uncreated and indestructible, alone, complete,
immovable and without end. Nor was it ever, nor will it be ; for now
it is, all at once, a continuous one. For what kind of origin for it
will you look for? In what way and from what source could it have
drawn its increase? I shall not let thee say nor think that it came
from what is not ; for it can neither be thought nor uttered that what
is not is. And, if it came from nothing, what need could have made
it arise later rather than sooner? Therefore must it either be alto-
gether or be not at all. Nor will the force of truth suffer aught to
arise besides itself from that which in any way is. Wherefore, Justice
does not loose her fetters and let anything come into being or pass
away, but holds it fast. R. P. 940-95.

"Is it or is it not?" Surely it is adjudged, as it needs must be,
that we are to set aside the one way as unthinkable and nameless (for
it is no true way), and that the other path is real and true. How.

158 EARLY GREEK THINKERS

then, can what is be going to be in the future ? Or how could it come
into being? If it came into being, it is not; nor is it if it is going to
be in the future. Thus is becoming extinguished and passing away
not to be heard of. R. P. 95c.

Nor is it divisible, since it is all alike, and there is no more of it
in one place than in another, to hinder it from holding together, nor
less of it, but everything is full of what is. Wherefore all holds to-
gether ; for what is, is in contact with what is.

Moreover, it is immovable in the bonds of mighty chains, without
beginning and without end; since coming into being and passing
away have been driven afar, and true belief has cast them away. It
is the same, and it rests in the self-same place, abiding in itself. And
thus it remaineth constant in its place ; for hard necessity keeps it in
the bonds of the limit that holds it fast on every side. Wherefore it
is not permitted to what is to be infinite ; for it is in need of nothing ;
while, if it were infinite, it would stand in need of everything. R. P. 96.
Look steadfastly with thy mind at things afar as if they were at
hand. You cannot cut off what anywhere is from holding fast to
what is anywhere ; neither is it scattered abroad throughout the uni-
verse, nor does it come together. R. P. c/ia.

It is the same thing that can be thought and for the sake of which
the thought exists; for you cannot find thought without something
that is, to which it is betrothed. And there is not, and never shall
"be, any time other than that which is present, since fate has chained
it so as to be whole and immovable. Wherefore all these things are
but the names which mortals have given, believing them to be true —
coming into being and passing away, being and not being, change of
place and alteration of bright colour. R. P. 97.

Where, then, it has its farthest boundary, it is complete on every
side, equally poised from the centre in every direction, like the mass
of a rounded sphere ; for it cannot be greater or smaller in one place
than in another. For there is nothing which is not that could keep
it from reaching out equally, nor is it possible that there should be
more of what is in this place and less in that, since it is all inviolable.
For, since it is equal in all directions, it is equally confined within
limits. R. P. 98.

EARLY GREEK THINKERS 159

THE WAY OF OPINION

Here shall I close my trustworthy speech and thought about the
truth. Henceforward learn the opinions of mortals, giving ear to
deceptive ordering of my words.

Mortals have settled in their minds to speak of twoi forms, one
of which they should have left out, and that is where they go astray
from the truth. They have assigned an opposite substance to each,
and marks distinct from one another. To the one they allot the fire
of heaven, light, thin, in every direction the same as itself, but not the
same as the other. The other is opposite to it, dark night, a compact
and heavy body. Of these I tell thee the whole arrangement as it
seems to men, in order that no mortal may surpass thee in knowledge.
R. P. 99.

Now that all things have been named light and night, and the
things which belong to the power of each have been assigned to these
things and to those, everything is full at once of light and dark night,
both equal, since neither has aught to do with the other. R. P. 100.

The narrower circles are filled with unmixed fire, and those sur-
rounding them with night, and in the midst of these rushes their
portion of fire. In the midst of these circles is the divinity that directs
the course of all things ; for she rules over all painful birth and all be-
getting, driving the female to the embrace of the male, and the male
to that of the female. R. P. 101 A.

First of all the gods she contrived Eros. R. P. ib,

And thou shalt know the origin of all the things on high, and all
the signs in the sky, and the resplendent works of the glowing sun's
clear torch, and whence they arose. And thou shalt learn likewise
of the wandering deeds of the round-faced moon, and of her origin.
Thou shalt know, too, the heavens that surround us, whence they
arose, and how Necessity took them and bound them to keep the
limits of the stars . . . how the earth, and the sun, and the moon,
and the sky that is common to all, and the Milky Way, and the outer-
most Olympos, and the burning might of the stars arose. R. P. 101
B, C.

Shining by night with borrowed light, wandering round the earth.
Always straining her eyes to the beams of the sun.

160 EARLY GREEK THINKERS

For as at any time is the condition of the flexible limbs, so is the
state of men's minds ; for that which thinks is the same, namely, the
substance of the limbs, in each and every man; for their thought is
that of which there is most in them. R. P. 102 B.

On the right boys; on the left girls.

Thus, according to men's opinions, did things come into being,
and thus they are now. In time (they think) they will grow up and
pass away. To each of these things men have assigned a fixed name.
R. P. I02d.

Parmenides held that there were crowns close together and en-
circling one another, formed of the rare and dense element re-
spectively, and that between these there were other mixed crowns
made up of light and darkness. That which surrounds them all was
solid like a wall, and under it is a fiery crown. That which is the
midmost of all crowns is also solid, and surrounded in turn by a
fiery circle. The central circle of the mixed crowns is the cause of
movement and becoming to all the rest. He calls it "the goddess
who directs their course," "the Key-bearer," and "Necessity." (Aet.
ii. 7. i ; R. P. 101 D.)

TRANSLATIONS OF JOHN BURNET.

EMPEDOKLES

Empedokles lived during the first half of the fifth century B. C.
He was born at Akragas in Sicily of an illustrious family, and seems to
have been a ruling demagogue of the city for some years. He wrote
in verse and the fragments, besides being important philosophically,
show considerable poetic thought. He sought to find in water, air, fire,
and earth, four elements, which together could explain the world.

FRAGMENTS
BOOK I.

And do thou give ear, Pausanias, son of Anchitos the wise!

For straitened are the powers with which their bodily parts are
endowed, and many are the woes that burst in on them and blunt the

EARLY GREEK THINKERS 161

edge of their careful thoughts ! They behold but a brief span of a life
that is no life, and, doomed to swift death, are borne away and fly off
like smoke. Each is convinced of that alone which he has chanced
upon as he is hurried to and fro, and idly fancies he has found the
whole. So hardly can these things be seen by the eyes or heard by
the ears of men, so hardly grasped by their mind ! Thou, then, since
thou hast found thy way hither, shalt learn no more than mortal mind
has seen. R. P. 130.

But, O ye gods, turn aside from my tongue the madness of those
men. Hallow my lips and make a pure stream flow from them ! And
thee, much-wooed, white-armed Virgin Muse, do I beseech, that I
may hear what is lawful for the children of a day ! Speed me on my
way from the abode of Holiness and drive my willing- car ! Constrain
me not to win garlands of honour and glory at the hands of mortals
on condition of speaking in my pride beyond that which is lawful and
right, and only so to gain a seat upon the heights of wisdom. R. P. ib.

Go to now, consider with all thy powers in what way each thing
is clear. Hold nothing that thou seest in greater credit than what
thou hearest, nor value thy resounding ear above the clear instruc-
tions of thy tongue ; and do not withhold thy confidence in any of thy
other bodily parts by which there is an opening for understanding,
but consider everything in the way it is clear. R. P. ib.

And thou shalt learn all the drugs that are a defence against ills
and old age, since for thee alone shall I accomplish all this. Thou
shalt arrest the violence of the weariless winds that arise and sweep
the earth, laying waste the corn-fields with their breath; and again,
when thou so desirest, thou shalt bring their blasts back again with
a rush. Thou shalt cause for men a seasonable drought after the
dark rains, and again after the summer drought thou shalt produce
the streams that feed the trees as they pour down from the sky.
Thou shalt bring back from Hades the life of a dead man.

Hear first the four roots of all things : shining Zeus, life-bringing
Hera, Aidoneus, and Nestis dripping with tears, the well-spring of
mortals. R. P. 131 A.

And I shall tell thee another thing. There is no coming into
being of aught that perishes, nor any end for it in baneful death ; but

162 EARLY GREEK THINKERS

only mingling and separation of what has been mingled. Coming into

being is but a name given to these by men. R. P. 131 B.

But, when the elements have been mingled in the fashion of a
man and come to the light of day, or In the fashion of the race of wild
beasts or plants or birds, then men say that these come into being;
and when they are separated, they call that, as is the custom, woeful
death. I too follow the custom, and call it so myself.

Fools ! — for they have no far-reaching thoughts — who deem that
what before was not comes into being, or that aught can perish and
be utterly destroyed. For it cannot be that aught can arise from
what in no way is, and it is impossible and unheard of that what is
should perish; for it will always be, wherever one may keep putting
it. R. P. I3id.

A man who is wise in such matters would never surmise in his
heart that, so long as mortals live what men choose to call their life,
they are, and suffer good and ill ; while, before they were formed and
after they have been dissolved they are, it seems, nothing at all. R.
P. ib.

But it is ever the way of low minds to disbelieve the better say-
ings. Do thou learn as the sure testimonies of my Muse bid thee,
and divide the argument in thy heart.

. . . Joining one choice argument to another, not to finish one
path ... for what is right may well be said even twice.

I shall tell thee a twofold tale. At one time things grew to be
one only out of many ; at another, that divided up to be many instead
of one. There is a double becoming of perishable things and a
double passing away. The coming together of all things brings one
generation into being and destroys it ; the other grows up and is scat-
tered as things become divided. And these things never cease, con-
tinually changing places, at one time all uniting in one through Love,
at another each borne in different directions by the repulsion of
Strife. Thus, as far as it is their nature to grow into one out of
many, and to become many once more when the one is parted as-
under, so far they come into being and their life abides not. But, in-
asmuch as they never cease changing their places continually, so far
they are immovable as they go round the circle of existence. R. P. 1-32.

But come, hearken to my words, for it is learning that increaseth

EARLY GREEK THINKERS 163

wisdom. As I said before, when I declared the heads of my dis-
course, I shall tell thee a twofold tale. At one time things grew to-
gether to be one only out of many, at another they parted asunder so
as to be many instead of one; — Fire and Water and Earth and the
mighty height of Air, dead Strife, too, apart from these and balan-
cing every one of them, and have among them, their equal in length
and breadth. Her do thou contemplate with thy mind, nor sit with
dazed eyes. It is she that is deemed to be implanted in the frame of
mortals. It is she that makes them have kindly thoughts and work
the works of peace. They call her by the names of Joy and Aphro-
dite. Her has no mortal yet marked moving among the gods, but
do thou attend to the undeceitful ordering of my discourse. R. P. 132.

For all these are equal and alike in age, yet each has a different
prerogative and its own peculiar nature. And nothing comes into
being besides these, nor do they pass away ; for, if they had been pass-
ing away continually, they would not be now. R. P. 132.

Nor is any part of the whole empty. Whence, then, could aught
come to increase it? Where, too, could these things perish, since no
place is empty of them? They are what they are; but, running
through one another, different things continually come into being
from different sources, yet ever alike. R. P. 132.

Come now, look at the things that bear virtues to my earlier dis-
course, if so be that there was any form left out in the earlier list.
Behold the sun, everywhere bright and warm, and all the immortal
things that are bathed in its heat and bright radiance. Behold the
rain, everywhere dark and cold ; and from the earth issue forth things
close-pressed and solid. When they are in strife all these are differ-
ent in form and separated; but they come together in love, and are
desired by one another. R. P. 132.

For out of these have sprung all things that were and are and
shall be, — trees and men and women, beasts and birds and the fishes
that dwell in the waters, yea, and the gods that live long lives and are
exalted in honour. R. P. 132!.

For these things are what they are; but, running through one
another, they take different shapes — so much does mixture change
them. R. P. I32g.

164 EARLY GREEK THINKERS

For, of a truth, they (i.e. Love and Strife) were aforetime and
shall be; nor ever, methinks, will boundless time be emptied of that
pair. And they prevail in turn as the circle comes round, and pass
away before one another, and increase in their appointed turn. R. P.

I32C.

For these things are what they are; but, running through one
another, they become men and the other races of mortal creatures.
At one time they are brought together into one order by Love; at
another, again, they are carried each in different directions by the re-
pulsion of Strife, till once more they grow into one and are wholly
subdued.

Just as when painters are elaborating temple-offerings, men
whom Metis has well taught their art, — they, when they have taken
pigments of many colours with their hands, mix them in a harmony,
more of some and less of others, and from them produce shapes like
unto all things, making trees and men and women, beasts and birds
and fishes that dwell in the waters, yea, and gods, that live long lives,
and are exalted in honour, — so let not the error prevail over thy
mind, that there is any other source of all the perishable creatures
that appear in countless numbers. Know this for sure, for thou hast
heard the tale from a goddess.

Come, I shall now tell thee first of all the beginning of the sun, and
the sources from which have sprung all the things we now behold,
the earth and the billowy sea, the damp mist and the Titan air that
binds his circle fast round all things. R. P. I35a.

It was spherical . . . naught of the whole was empty and naught
superfluous.

In it is distinguished neither the bright form of the sun, no, nor
the shaggy earth in its might, nor the sea, — so fast was the god bound
in the close covering of Harmony, spherical and round, rejoicing in
his circular rest. R.P. 133 A.

But when Strife was grown great in the limbs of the god and
sprang forth to claim his prerogatives, in the fulness of the alternate
time set for them by the mighty oath, ... for all the limbs of the god
in turn quaked. R. P. 133 A and B.

[Everything heavy and everything light it (Strife) separated apart.
R. P. I33e.]

. . . Without affection and incapable of mixing.

. . . The heaped up mass. . . .

If the depths of the earth and the vast air were infinite, a foolish

EARLY GREEK THINKERS 165

saying which has been vainly dropped from the lips of many mortals,
though they have seen but a little of the All. ... R. P. 86b.

The sharp-darting sun and the gentle moon. But (the sunlight)
is gathered together and circles round the mighty heavens.

It flashes back to Olympos with untroubled countenance. R. P.

I35C-

But the gentle flame (of the eye) has but a scanty portion of earth.

Even so the sunbeam, having struck the broad and mighty circle
of the moon, returns at once, running so as to reach the sky.

It circles round the earth, a borrowed light, as on the track of a
car.

For she gazes at the sacred circle of the lordly sun opposite.

And she scatters his rays away into the sky above, and casts a
shadow on as much of the earth as is the breadth of the pale-faced
moon.

It is the earth that makes night by coming before the lights.

... of deserted, blind-eyed night.

And many fires burn beneath the earth.

The sea with its silly tribe of fertile fish.

Salt was solidified by the impact of the sun's beams.

Sea, the sweat of the earth. ... R. P. I35b.

But the air sunk down upon the earth with its long roots ; for thus
it chanced to be running at that time, though often it runs otherwise.

R. P. i35d-

(Fire) swiftly rushing upwards. . . .

But now I shall retrace my steps over the paths of song that I
have travelled before, drawing from my saying a new saying. When
Strife was fallen to the lowest depth of the vortex, and Love had
reached to the centre of the whirl, in it do all things come together so
as to be one only ; not all at once, but coming together gradually each
from different quarters ; and, as they came together, Strife retired to
the extreme boundary. Yet many things remained unmixed, alternat-
ing with the things that were being mixed, namely, all that Strife not
fallen yet retained ; for it had not yet altogether retired perfectly to the
outermost boundaries of the circle. Some of its members still re-
mained within, and some had passed out. But in proportion as it kept
rushing out, a soft, immortal stream of blameless Love kept running
in, and straightway those things became mortal which had been im-
mortal before, those things were mixed that had been unmixed, each
changing its path. And, as they were mingled, countless tribes of

166 EARLY GREEK THINKERS

mortal creatures were scattered abroad endowed with all manner of

forms, a wonder to behold. R. P. 134.

For all of them — sun, earth, sky, and sea, — fit in with all the parts
of themselves, the friendly parts which are separated off in perishable
things. In the same way, all those things that are more adapted for
mixture, are united to one another in Love, made like by the power
of Aphrodite. But they themselves (i.e. the elements) differ as far as
possible in their origin and mixture and the forms imprinted on each,
being altogether unaccustomed to come together, and very hostile,
under the influence of Strife, since it has wrought their birth.

Thus all things have thought by the will of fortune. . . . And,
inasmuch as the rarest things came together in their fall. . . .

Fire is increased by Fire, Earth increases its own mass, and Air
swells the bulk of Air.

And the kindly earth in its well-wrought ovens received two parts
of shining Nestis out of the eight, and four of Hephaistos ; and they
became white bones, divinely fitted together by the cements of Har-
mony. R. P. I38c.

And the earth meets with these in nearly equal proportions, with
Hephaistos and Water and shining Air, anchoring in the perfect haven
of Kypris, — either a little more of it, or less of it and more of them.
From these did blood arise and the various forms of flesh. R. P. I38c.

(As a baker) cementing barley-meal with water. . . .
. tenacious Love. ,

BOOK II.

But if your assurance of these things was in any way deficient as
to how, out of Water and Earth and Air and Fire mingled together,
arose the colours and forms of all those mortal things that have been
fitted together by Aphrodite, and so are now come into being, how
both tall trees and the fishes of the sea (arose). . . .

And even as at that time Kypris, plying her pleasant task, after
she had moistened the Earth in water, gave it to swift fire to harden it.

R. P. i35d-

All of those which are 'dense within an'd rare without, having re-
ceived a moisture of this kind at the hands of Kypris. . . .

And so tall trees bear eggs, first of all olives. . . .

Wherefore late-born pomegranates and blooming apples. . . .

EARLY GREEK THINKERS 167

Wine is the water putrefied in the wood, under the bark.

For, if thou takest them (trees and plants) to the close recesses
of thy heart and watchest over them kindly with faultless care, then
thou shalt have all these things in abundance throughout thy life, and
thou shalt gain many others from them ; for each grows ever true to
its own character, according as its nature is. But if thou strivest after
things of a different kind, as is the way with men, ten thousand woes
await thee to blunt thy careful thoughts. All at once they will cease
to live when the time comes round, desiring each to reach its own
kind ; for know that all things have wisdom and a share of thought.

Love hates necessity.

This thou mayest see in the heavy-backed shell-fish that dwell in
the sea, in maense and buccinia and the stony-skinned turtles. In them
thou mayest see that the earthy part dwells on the uppermost surface.

Hair and leaves, and the thick feathers of birds, and the scales
that grow on mighty limbs, are the same thing.

But the hair of hedgehogs is sharp-pointed and bristles on their
backs.

. . . Out of which (Fire and Water) divine Aphrodite fashioned
unwearying eyes . . . Aphrodite working them together with the
rivets of love . . . since they first grew together in the hands of Kypris.

. . . the liver full of blood.

It (Love) made many heads spring up without necks, and arms
wandered bare and bereft of shoulders. Eyes strayed up and down
in want of foreheads. R. P. I37a.

. . . this marvellous mass of mortal limbs. At one time all the
limbs that are the body's portion are brought together into one by
Love, and nourish in the high season of life; and again, at another
time they are severed by cruel Strife, and wander each in different di-
rections by the breakers of the sea of life. It is the same with shrubs
and the fish that make their homes in the waters, the beasts that make
their lairs in the hills, and the birds that sail on wings. R. P. I37a.

But, as divinity was mingled still further with divinity, these
things joined together as each might chance, and many other things
beside them continually arose. Many creatures with faces and breasts
looking in 'different directions were born; some, offspring of oxen
with faces of men, while others, again, arose as offspring of men with
the heads of oxen, and creatures in whom the nature of women and
men was mingled, furnished with sterile parts. R. P. I37b.

. . . Shambling oxen with undivided hoofs. . . .

168 EARLY GREEK THINKERS

Come now, hear how the Fire as it was separated caused the
night-born shoots of men and tearful women to arise ; for my tale is
not off the point nor uninformed. Whole-natured forms first arose
from the earth, having a portion both of water and fire. These did
the fire, desirous of reaching its like, cause to grow, showing as yet
neither the charming form of women's limbs, nor yet the voice and
parts that are proper to men. R. P. 13/c.

. . . But the substance of (the child's limbs is divided between
them, part of it in men's and part in women's (body).

And upon him came desire as he mingled with her through sight.

. . . And it was poured out in the pure parts ; and when it met
with cold women arose from it.

. . . The two diverging harbours of Aphrodite.

For in its warmer part the womb brings forth males, and that is
why men are darker, more sinewy, and more hairy.

Just as when rennet rivets and binds white milk. . . .

On the tenth day of the eighth month the white putrefaction arose.

Know that effluences flow from all things that have come into
being. R. P. I32h.

So sweet lays hold of sweet, and bitter rushes to bitter; acid
comes to acid, and warm couples with warm.

Water fits better into wine, but it will not (mingle) with oil. R.
P. I32h.

The bloom of scarlet dye mingles with the gleaming linen.

Thus do all things draw breath and breathe it out again. All
have bloodless tubes of flesh extended over the surface of their bodies ;
and at the mouths of these the uttermost surface of the skin is per-
forated all over with pores closely packed together, so as to keep in
the blood while a free passage is cut for the air to pass through. Then,
when the yielding blood recedes from these, the bubbling air rushes
in with an impetuous surge; and when the blood runs back it is
breathed out again. Just as when a girl, playing with a water-clock
of shining brass, puts the orifice of the pipe upon her comely hand,
and dips the water-clock into the yielding mass of silvery water, — the
stream does not then flow into the vessel, but the bulk of the air inside,
pressing upon the close packed perforations, keeps it out till she un-
covers the compressed stream ; but then air escapes and an equal vol-
ume of water runs in. Just in the same way, when water occupies
the interior of the brazen vessel and the opening and passage is
stopped up by the human hand, the air outside, striving to get in,

EARLY GREEK THINKERS 169

keeps back the water at the gates of the sounding strainer, pressing
upon its surface till she lets go with her hand. Then, on the contrary,
just in the opposite way to what happened before, the wind rushes in
and an equal volume of water runs out to make room. Even so, when
the thin blood that surges through the limbs rushes backwards to the
interior, straightway the stream of air comes in with a rushing swell ;
but when the blood returns the air breathes out again in equal quantity.

(The dog) with its nostrils tracking out the fragments of the
beast's limbs, which the tender breathing of its feet has left in the copse.

Thus all things have their share of breath and smell.

The fleshy sprout (of the ear).

And even as when a man, thinking to sally forth through a stormy
night, gets him ready a lantern, a flame of flashing fire, fastening to it
horn plates to keep out all manner of winds ; and they scatter the blast
of the winds that blow, but the light leaping out through them shines
across the threshold with its unyielding rays inasmuch as it is finer;
even so did love surround the elemental fire in the round pupil and
confine it with membranes and fine tissues, which are pierced through
and through with innumerable passages. They keep out the deep
water that surrounds the pupil, but they let through the fire, inasmuch
as it is finer. R. P. I39d.

One vision is produced by both the eyes.

(The heart), dwelling in the sea of blood that runs in opposite
directions, where men's thoughts chiefly revolve ; for the blood round
me heart is the thought of man. R. P. 1396.

For the wisdom of men grows according to what is before them.
R. P. 139 B.

And just so far as they grow to be different, so far do different
thoughts ever present themselves to their minds (in dreams). R. P.
1390.

For it is with earth that we see Earth, and Water with water ; by
air we see bright Air, by fire destroying Fire. By love do we see
Love, and Hate by grievous hate. For out of these are all things

V 2-11

170 EARLY GREEK THINKERS

formed and fitted together, and by these do men think and feel pleas-
ure and pain. R. P. 139 A and C.

BOOK III.

If ever, as regards the things of a day, immortal Muse, thou didst
deign to take thought for my endeavour, then stand by me once more
as I pray to thee, O Kalliopeia, as I utter a pure discourse concerning
the blessed gods. R. P. 140 A.

Blessed is the man who has gained the riches of divine wisdom ;
wretched he who has a dim opinion of the gods in his heart. R. P.
140 B.

It is not possible for us to set God before our eyes, or to lay hold
of him with our hands, which is the broadest way of persuasion that
leads into the heart of man. For he is not furnished with a human
head on his body, two branches do not sprout from his shoulders, he
has no feet, no swift knees, nor hairy parts; but he is only a sacred
and unutterable mind flashing through the whole world with rapid
thoughts. R. P. 140 C, D.

PURIFICATIONS

Friends, who inhabit the great town below the yellow rock of
Akragas and up on the heights of the city, busy in goodly works, safe
harbours for the stranger that claims respect, men unskilled in mean-
ness, all hail. I go about among you an immortal god, no mortal
now, honoured by all as is meet, crowned with fillets and flowery
garlands. Straightway, whenever I enter with these into the flourish-
ing towns, reverence is done me by men and women; they go after
me in countless throngs, asking of me the way to gain; some desir-
ing oracles, while some, who for many a weary day have been pierced
by tKe grievous pangs of all manner of sickness, beg to hear from me
the word of healing. R. P. 129 F.

But why do I harp on these things, as if it were any great matter
that I should surpass mortal, perishable men?

Friends, I know indeed that truth is in the words I shall utter,
but for men the assault of belief upon their hearts is grievous and
hateful.

There is a decree of necessity, an ancient ordinance of the gods,
eternal and sealed fast by broad oaths, that whenever one of the dae-
mons, whose portion is length of days, sinfully pollutes his hands with

EARLY GREEK THINKERS 171

blood, he must wander thrice ten thousand seasons from the abodes
of the blessed, being born throughout the time in all manners of mor-
tal forms, changing one toilsome path of life for another. For the
mighty Air drives him into the Sea, and the Sea spews him forth on
the dry Earth ; Earth tosses him into the beams of the blazing Sun,
and he flings him back to the eddies of Air. One takes him from the
other, and all reject him. One of these I now am, an exile and a
wanderer from the gods, the bondsman of insensate strife. R. P. 141 A.
For I have been ere now a boy and a girl, a bush and a bird and
a glittering fish in the sea. R. P. 141 B.

I wept and I wailed when I saw the unfamiliar land where were
Birth and Sudden Death and troops of Dooms besides, and loathsome
sicknesses and putrefactions and fluxes. R. P. 141 C.

They wander in darkness up and down the meadow of Ate.
Robbed of the blessed life.

From what honour, from what a height of bliss have I fallen to
go about among mortals here on earth.

We have come down under this roofed-in cave.

There was Chthonie and far-sighted Heliope, bloody Discord and
gentle-visaged Harmony, Kallisto and Aischre, Speed and Tarrying,
lovely Truth and dark-faced Uncertainty, Birth and Decay, Sleep and
Waking, Movement and Immobility, crowned Majesty and Meanness,
Silence and Voice. R. P. 1316.

Alas, O wretched race of mortals, twice unblessed : such are the
strifes and groanings from which ye have been born!

(The goddess) clothing them with a strange garment of flesK.

. . . Earth that envelops the man.

From living creatures he made them dead, changing their forms.

Nor had they any Ares for a god nor Kydoimos, no nor King
Zeus nor Kronos nor Poseidon, but Kypris the Queen. . . . Her
did they propitiate with holy gifts, with animals kneaded out of meal

172 EARLY GREEK THINKERS

and perfumes of cunning fragrancy, with offerings of pure myrrh and
sweet-smelling frankincense, casting on the ground libations of brown
honey. And the altar did not reek with pure bull's blood, but this
was held in the greatest abomination among men, to eat the goodly
.limbs after tearing out the life. R. P. 142 B.

And there was among them a man of rare knowledge, most skilled
in all manner of wise works, a man who had won the utmost wealth
of wisdom ; for whensoever he strained with all his mind, he easily saw
everything of all the things that are now (though he lived) ten, yea
twenty generations of men ago.

For all things were tame and gentle to man, both beasts and birds,
and friendly feelings were kindled everywhere. Trees flourished with
perpetual leaves and with perpetual fruit, hanging down with abund-
ance of fruit all the year round. R. P.

This is not lawful for some and unlawful for others ; but the law
for all extends everywhere, through the wide-ruling air and the infinite
light of heaven. R. P. 142 A.

Will ye not cease from this accursed slaughter ? See ye not that
ye are feasting on one another in the thoughtlessness of your hearts.
R. P. 142 B.

And the father lifts up his own son in a changed form and slays
liim with a prayer. Infatuated fool! And they are dragged along
"begging mercy from the madman, while he, deaf to their cries, slaugh-
ters them in his halls and gets ready the evil feast. In like manner
does the son seize the father, and children their mother, tear out their
life and eat their flesh. R. P. ib.

Ah, woe is me that the pitiless day of death did not destroy me
•«re ever I wrought evil deeds of devouring with my lips ! R. P. ib.

Among beasts they become lions that make their lair on the hills
and their couch on the ground ; and laurels among trees with goodly
foliage. R. P. I4ib.

Abstain wholly from laurel leaves.

EARLY GREEK THINKERS 173

Wretches, utter wretches, keep your hands from beans !

Wash your hands, cutting the water from five spring's in the un-
yielding brass. R. P. 143, n. i.

Fast from wickedness ! R. P. ib.

Therefore are ye distraught by grievous wickednesses, and will
not unburden your souls of wretched sorrows.

But, at the last, they appear among mortal men as prophets, song-
writers, physicians, and princes ; and thence they rise up as gods ex-
alted in honour, sharing the hearth of the other gods and the same
table, free from human woes, safe from destiny, and incapable of hurt.
R. P. 1410.

Empedokles held that the Air was first separated out and secondly
Fire. Next came Earth, from which, highly compressed as it was by
the impetus of its revolution, Water gushed forth. From the water
Mist was produced by evaporation. The heavens were formed out
of the Air and the sun out of the Fire, while terrestrial things were
condensed from the other elements. — Aet. ii. 6. 3 (Dox. p. 334; R. P.
135 A).

Empedokles held that the Air when separated off from the orig-
inal mixture of the elements was spread round in a circle. After the
Air, Fire running outwards, and not finding any other place, ran up-
under the solid ice that now surrounds the Air. There were two hem-
ispheres revolving round the earth, the one altogether composed of
fire, the other of a mixture of air and a little fire. The latter he sup-
posed to be the Night. The origin of their motion he derived from
the fact of fire preponderating in one hemisphere owing to its accumu-
lation there. — Ps.-Plut. Strom, fr. 10 (Dox. p. 582; R. P. 1353).

Empedokles says that trees were the first living creatures to grow
up out of the earth, before it was solidified by fire, and before day and
night were distinguished ; that, from the symmetry of their mixture,
they contain the proportion of male and female ; that they grow owing-
to the heat which is in the earth rising upwards, so that they are parts
of the earth just as embryos are parts of the womb ; that fruits are ex-
cretions of the water and fire in plants, and that those which have a
deficiency of moisture shed their leaves when that is evaporated by the

174 EARLY GREEK THINKERS

summer heat, while those which have more moisture remain evergreen,
as in the case of the laurel, the olive, and the palm ; that the differences
in taste are due to variations in the particles contained in the earth and
to the plants drawing different particles from it, as in the case of vines ;
for it is not the difference of the vines that make wine good, but that
of the soil which nourishes them. — Aet. v. 26. 4 (R. P. 136).

7. Empedokles speaks in the same way of all the senses, and
says that perception is due to the "effluences" fitting into the passages
of each sense. And that is why one cannot judge the objects of an-
other; for the passages of some of them are too wide and those of
others too narrow for the sensible object, so that the latter either goes
through without touching or cannot enter at all. R. P. I39d.

He tries, too, to explain the nature of sight. He says that the
interior of the eye consists of fire and water, while round about it is
(earth and "air," through which its rarity enables the fire to pass like
the light in lanterns (v. 316 sqq.). The passages of the fire and water
are arranged alternately; through those of the fire we perceive light
objects, through those of the water, dark ; each class of objects fits into
each class of passages, and the colours are carried to the sight by ef-
fluence. R. P. ib.

8. But eyes are not all composed in the same way; some are
composed of like elements and some of opposite ; some have the fire
in the centre and some on the outside. That is why some animals
are keen-sighted in the daytime, for the fire within is brought up to
an equality by that without ; those which have less of the opposite (i.e.
water), by night, for then their deficiency is supplemented. But, in
the opposite case, each will behave in the opposite manner. Those
eyes in which fire predominates will be dazzled in the daytime, since
the fire being still further increased will stop up and occupy the pores
of the water. And this goes on till the water is separated off by the
air, for in each case it is the opposite which is a remedy. The best
tempered and the most excellent vision is one composed of both in
equal proportions. This is practically what he says about sight.

9. Hearing, he holds, is produced by sound outside, when the
air moved by the voice sounds inside the ear ; for the sense of hearing
is a sort of bell sounding inside the ear, which he calls a "fleshy
sprout." When the air is set in motion it strikes upon the solid parts
and produces a sound. Smell, he holds, arises from respiration, and
that is why those smell most keenly whose breath has the most
violent motion, and why most smell comes from subtle and light

EARLY GREEK THINKERS 175

bodies. As to touch and taste, he does not lay down how nor by
means of what they arise, except that he gives us an explanation ap-
plicable to all, that sensation is produced by adaptation to the pores.
Pleasure is produced by what is like in its element and their mixture ;
pain, by what is opposite. R. P. ib.

10. And he gives a precisely similar account of thought and ig-
norance. Thought arises from what is like and ignorance from what
is unlike, thus implying that thought is the same, or nearly the same,
as perception. For after enumerating how we know each thing by
means of itself, he adds, "for all things are fashioned and fitted to-
gether out of these, and it is by these men think and feel pleasure and
pain" (v. 336 sq.). And for this reason we think chiefly with our
blood, for in it of all parts of the body all the elements are most com-
pletely mingled. R. P. 139 C.

11. All, then, in whom the mixture is equal or nearly so, and in
whom the elements are neither at too great intervals nor too small or
too large, are the wisest and have the most exact perceptions ; and
those who come next to them are wise in proportion. Those who are
in the opposite condition are the most foolish. Those whose elements
are separated by intervals and rare are dull and laborious ; those in
whom they are closely packed and broken into minute particles are
impulsive, they attempt many things and finish few because of the
rapidity with which their blood moves. Those who have a well-pro-
portioned mixture in some one part of their bodies will be clever in
that respect. That is why some are good orators and some good
artificers. The latter have a good mixture in their hands, and the
former in their tongues, and so with all other special capacities. R.
Rib.

TRANSLATIONS OF JOHN BURNET.

ANAXAGORAS

Anaxagoras was born probably a year or so after 500 B. C., at
Klazomenai. At the age of twenty he began to study philosophy at
Athens, and was the first of the philosophers to take up his residence
there. He is said to have neglected his property for science. He was
a friend of Pericles, and shortly before the Peloponnesian war, the
enemies of Plato brought trial against Anaxagoras for holding that trie
sun was a red hot stone and the moon earth. Escaping from Athens,

176 EARLY GREEK THINKERS

Anaxagoras returned to Ionia to Lampsakos, and seems to have died
there not long afterwards. He believed that there are as many elements
as there are qualities in things.

FRAGMENTS

1. All things were together infinite both in number and in small-
ness, — for the small, too, was infinite. And when all things were to-
gether, none of them could be distinguished because of their smallness.
For air and aether prevailed over all things, being both of them infin-
ite ; for amongst all things these are the greatest both in quantity and
size. R. P. 1 20.

2. For air and aether are separated off from the mass that sur-
rounds the world, and the surrounding mass is infinite in quantity.
R. P. ib.

3-10. And since these things are so, we must suppose that there
are contained many things and of all sorts in all (the worlds) that are
brought together, germs of all things, with all sorts of shapes, and
colours, and savours (R. P. ib.), and that men have been formed in
them, and the other animals that have life, and that these men have
inhabited cities and cultivated fields, as with us; and that they have
a sun and moon and the rest, as with us ; and that their earth brings
forth for them many things of all kinds, of which they gather to-
gether the best and use them for their dwellings (R. P. 12/b). Thus
much have I said with regard to separating off, that it will not be
only with us that things are separated off, but elsewhere too.

u. ... as these thus revolve and are separated off by the
force and speed. And the speed makes the force. And their speed
is like nothing in speed of the things that are now among men. but
in every way many times as quick.

4. But before they were separated off, when all things were to-
gether, not even was any colour distinguishable; for the mixture of
all things prevented it, — of the moist and of the dry, and the warm
and the cold, and the light and dark [and much earth being in it],
and of a multitude of innumerable germs in no way like each other.
For none of the other things either is like any other. R. P. 120.

5. In everything there is a portion of everything except Nous,
and there are some things in which there is Nous (mind) also. R. P.
I27b.

6. All other things partake in a portion of everything, while

EARLY GREEK THINKERS 177

Nous is infinite and self-ruled, and is mixed with nothing, but is
alone, itself by itself. For if it were not by itself, but were mixed
with anything else, it would partake in all things if it were mixed
with any; for in everything there is a portion of everything, as has
been said by me in what goes before, and the things mixed with it
would hinder it, so that it would have power over nothing in the same
way that it has now being alone by itself. For it is the thinnest of
all things and the purest, and it has all knowledge about everything
and the greatest strength ; and Nous has power over all things, both
greater and smaller, that have life. And Nous had power over the
whole revolution, so that it began to revolve in the beginning. And
it began to revolve first from a small beginning; but the revolution
now extends over a large space, and will extend over a larger still.
And all the things that are mingled together and separated off and
distinguished are all known by Nous. And Nous set in order all
things that were to be and that were, and all things that are not now
and that are, and this revolution in which now revolve the stars and
the sun and the moon, and the air and the sether that are separated
off. And this revolution caused the separating off, and the rare is
separated from the dense, the warm from the cold, the light from
the dark, and the dry from the moist. And there are many portions
in many things. But no thing is altogether separated off nor dis-
tinguished from anything else except Nous. And all Nous is alike,
both the greater and the smaller ; while nothing else is like anything
else, but each single thing is and was most manifestly those things
of which it has most in it. R. P. 123.

7. And when Nous began to move things, separating off took
place from all that was moved, and so far as Nous set in motion all
was separated. And as things were set in motion and separated, the
revolution caused them to be separated much more.

8. The dense and the moist and the cold- and the dark came
together where the earth is now, while the rare and the warm and
the dry (and the bright) went out towards the further part of the
aether. R. P. 124 A.

9. From these as they are separated off earth is solidified; for
from mists water is separated off, and from water earth. From the
earth stones are solidified by the cold, and these rush outwards more
than water. R. P. 124 A.

12. But Nous has power over all things that are, and it is now

178 EARLY GREEK THINKERS

where all the other things are, in the mass that surrounds the world,
and in the things that have been separated off and that are being
separated off.

13. Nor are the things that are in one world divided nor cut
off from one another with a hatchet, neither thf varm from the cold
nor the cold from the warm. R. P. 1236.

14. And when those things are being thus distinguished, we
must know that all of them are neither more nor less; for it is not
possible for them to be more than all, and all are always equal. R.
P. 120.

15. Nor is there a least of what is small, but there is always a
smaller ; for it is impossible that what is should cease to be by being
divided. But there is always something greater than what is great,
and it is equal to the small in amount, and, compared with itself,
each thing is both great and small. R. P. 1263.

16. And since the portions of the great and of the small are
equal in amount, for this reason, too, all things will be in everything ;
nor is it possible for them to be apart, but all things have a portion
of everything. Since it is impossible for there to be a least thing,
they cannot be separated, nor come to be by themselves ; but they
must be now, just as they were in the beginning, all together. And
in all things many things are contained, and an equal number both
in the greater and in the smaller of the things that are separated off.

17. The Hellenes are wrong in using the expressions coming
into being and passing away ; for nothing comes into being or passes
away, but mingling and separation taices place of things that are.
So they would be right to call coming into being mixture, and pass-
ing away separation. R. P. 119.

3. The earth is flat in shape, and remains suspended because
of its size and because there is no vacuum. For this reason the air
is very strong, and supports the earth which is borne up by it.

4. Of the moisture on the surface of the earth, the sea arose
from the waters in the earth, . . . and from the rivers which flow
into it.

5. Rivers take their being both from the rains and from the
waters in the earth; for the earth is hollow, and has waters in its
cavities. And the Nile rises in summer owing to the water that
comes down from the snows in Ethiopia.

6. The sun and the moon and all the stars are fiery stones ig-

EARLY GREEK THINKERS 179

nited by the rotation of the aether. Under the stars are the sun and
moon, and also certain bodies which revolve with them, but are in-
visible to us.

7. We do not feel the heat of the stars because of the greatness
of their distance from the earth ; and, further, they are not so warm
as the sun, because they occupy a colder region. The moon is below
the sun, and nearer us.

8. The sun surpasses the Peloponnesos in size. The moon has
not a light of her own, but gets it from the sun. The course of the
stars goes under the earth.

9. The moon is eclipsed by the earth screening the sun's light
from it. The sun is eclipsed at the new moon, when the moon
screens it from us. Both the sun and the moon turn in their courses
owing to the repulsion of the air. The moon turns frequently, because
it cannot prevail over the cold.

10. Anaxagoras was the first to determine what concerns the
eclipses and the illumination of the sun and moon. And he said the
moon was of earth, and had plains and ravines in it. The Milky
Way was the reflexion of the light of the stars that were not illum-
inated by the sun. Shooting stars were sparks, as it were, which
leapt out owing to the motion of the heavenly vault.

11. Winds arose when the air was rarefied by the sun, and when
things were burned and made their way to the vault of heaven and
were carried off. Thunder and lightning were produced by heat
striking upon clouds.

12. Earthquakes were caused by the air above striking on that
beneath the earth; for the movement of the latter caused the earth
which floats on it to rock. Dox. p. 562.

27. But Anaxagoras says that perception is produced by op-
posites; for like things cannot be affected by like. He attempts to
give a detailed enumeration of the particular senses. We see by
means of the image in the pupil; but no image is cast upon what is
of the same colour, but only on what is different. With most living
creatures things are of a different colour to the pupil by day, though
with some this is so by night, and these are accordingly keen-sighted
at that time. Speaking generally, however, night is more of the same
colour with the eyes than day. And an image is cast on the pupil
by day, because light is a concomitant cause of the image, and be-
cause the prevailing colour casts an image more readily upon its op-

180 EARLY GREEK THINKERS

posite. Theophrastos De Sens. (Dox. p. 507).

28. It is in the same way that touch and taste discern their
objects. That which is just as warm or just as cold as we are neither
warms us nor cools us by its contact; and, in the same way, we do
not apprehend the sweet and the sour by means of themselves. We
know cold by warm, fresh by salt, and sweet by sour, in virtue of our
deficiency in each; for all these are in us to begin with. And we
smell and hear in the same manner; the former by means of the ac-
companying respiration, the latter by the sound penetrating to the
brain, for the bone which surrounds this is hollow, and it is upon
it that the sound falls.

29. And all sensation implies pain, a view which would seem
to be the consequence of the first assumption, for all unlike things
produce pain by their contact. And this pain is rriade perceptible
by the long continuance or by the excess of a sensation. Brilliant
colours and excessive noises produce pain, and we cannot dwell long
on the same things. The larger animals are the more sensitive, and,
generally, sensation is proportionate to the size of the organs of sense.
Those animals which have large, pure and bright eyes see large ob-
jects and from a great distance, and contrariwise.

30. And it is the same with hearing. Large animals can hear
great and distant sounds, while less sounds pass unperceived; small
animals perceive small sounds and those near at hand. It is the same
too with smell. Rarefied air has more smell ; for, when air is heated
and rarefied, it smells. A large animal when it breathes draws in
the condensed air along with the rarefied, while a small one draws
in the rarefied by itself; so the large one perceives more. For smell
is better perceived when it is near than when it is far by reason of its
being more condensed, while when dispersed it is weak. But, roughly
speaking, large animals do not perceive a rarefied smell, nor small
animals a condensed one.

TRANSLATIONS OF JOHN BURNET.

ZENO

Zeno, the Elean, born about 489 B. c., believed in the unity
of Parmenides. Because Parmenides had in a thorough going way
showed the consequences which follow from the assumption that the
world is a unity, Empedocles and Anaxagoras had maintained the

EARLY GREEK THINKERS 181

plurality of the universe. Zeno came to the aid of Parmenides b^
showing the difficulties that are also involved in this assumption.

FRAGMENTS

If things are a many, they must be just as many as they are,
and neither more nor less. Now, if they are as many as they are,
tfiey will be finite in number.

But again, if things are a many, they will be infinite in number;
for there will always be other things between them, and others again
between them. R. P. 105 B.

If things are a many, they are both great and small ; so great as
to be of an infinite magnitude, and so small as to have no magnitude
at all.

That which has neither magnitude nor thickness nor bulk, will
not even be. "For," he says, "if it be added to any other thing it will
not make it any larger; for nothing can gain in magnitude by the
addition of what has no magnitude, and thus it follows at once that
what was added was nothing. . . . But if, when this is taken away
from another thing, that thing is no less; and again, if, when it is
added to another thing, that does not increase, it is plain that what
was added was nothing, and what was taken away was nothing. R.
P. 105 A.

But, if we assume that the unit is something, each one must
have a certain magnitude and a certain thickness. One part of it
must be at a certain distance from another, and the same may be
said of what surpasses it in smallness ; for it, too, will have magni-
tude, and something will surpass it in smallness. It is all the same
to say this once and to say it always ; for no such part of it will be
the last, nor will one thing be non-existent compared with another.
So, if things are a many, they must be both small and great, so small
as not to have any magnitude at all, and so great as to be infinite.
R. P. 105 C.

If there is space, it will be in something ; for all that is is in some-
thing, and to be in something is to be in space. This goes on ad
infinitum, therefore there is no space. R. P. 106.

i. You cannot traverse an infinite number of points in a finite
time. You must traverse the half of any given distance before you

182 EARLY GREEK THINKERS

traverse the whole, and the half of that again before you can traverse
it. This* goes on ad infinitum, so that (if space is made up of points)
there are an infinite number in any given space, and it cannot be
traversed in a finite time.

2. The second is the famous puzzle of Achilles and the tortoise.
Achilles must first reach the place from which the tortoise started.
By that time the tortoise will have got on a little way. Achilles
must then traverse that, and still the tortoise will be ahead. He is
always coming nearer, but he never makes up to it.

3. The third argument against the possibility of motion through
a space made up of points is that, on this hypothesis, an arrow in
any given moment of its flight must be at rest in some particular
point. Aristotle observes quite rightly that this argument depends
upon the assumption that time is made up of "nows," that is, of in-
divisible instants. This, no doubt, was the Pythagorean view.

MELISSOS

We know practically nothing of the life of Melissos save the one
great fact that he was the general of Samnos that defeated the Athen-
ian fleet in 440 B. C.

FRAGMENTS

I. If nothing is, what can be said of it as of something real?
R. P. 1 10.

2,. What was was ever, and ever shall be. For, if it had come
into being, there needs must, have been nothing before it came into
being. Now, if nothing were to exist, in no wise could anything
have arisen out of nothing. R. P. noa.

7. Since, then, it has not come into being, and since it is, it
was ever and ever shall be, and has no beginning or end, but is in-
finite. For, if it had come into being, it would have had a begin-
ning (or it would have begun to come into being at some time or
other) and an end (for it would have ceased to come into being at
some time or other) ; but, if it neither began nor ended, it ever was
and ever shall be, and has no beginning or end ; for it is not possible
for anything to be ever without being all. R. P. ma, fin.

8. Further, just as it ever is, so it must ever be infinite in mag-

EARLY GXEEK THINKERS 183

nitude (for if it had bounds, it would be bounded by empty space).
R. P. ma, init.

9. But nothing which has a beginning or end is either eternal
or infinite.

10. For if it is (infinite), it must be one; for if it were two, it
could not be infinite; for then it would be bounded by another. R.
P. H2a.

loa. (And, since it is one, it is alike throughout; for if it were
unlike, it would be many and not one.)

11. So then it is eternal and infinite and one and all alike. And
it cannot perish nor become greater, nor does it suffer pain or grief.
For, if any of these things happened to it, it would no longer be one.
For if it is altered, then the real must needs not be all alike, but what
was before must pass away, and what was not must come into being.
Now, if the all had changed by so much as a single hair, in thirty
thousand years, it would all perish in the whole of time. R. P. 1133.

12. Further, it is not possible either that its order should be
changed ; for the order which it had before does not perish, nor does
that which was not come into being. But, since nothing is either
added to it or passes away or is altered, how can any real thing have
had its order changed? For if anything became different, that would
amount to a change in its order. R. P. ib.

13. Nor does it suffer pain; for the All cannot be in pain. For
a thing in pain could not be ever, nor could it have the same power
as what is whole. It is only from the addition or subtraction of
something that it could feel pain, and then it would no longer be like
itself. Nor could what is whole possibly begin to feel pain ; for then
what was whole and what was real would pass away, and what was
not would come into being. And the same argument applies to
grief as to pain. R. P. ib.

14. Nor is anything empty. For what is empty is nothing.
. . What is nothing, then, cannot be.

Nor does it move ; for it has nowhere to betake itself to, but is
full. For if there were empty space, it would betake itself to empty
space. But, since there is no empty space, it has no place to betake
itself to.

And it cannot be dense and rare; for it is not possible for what
is rarefied to be as full as what is dense, but what is rare is ipso facto
emptier than what is dense.

This is the way in which we must distinguish between what is

184 EARLY GREEK THINKERS

full and what is not full. If a thing has room for anything else, and
takes it in, it is not full ; but if it has no room for anything and does
not take it in, it is full.

Now, it must needs be full if there is no empty space, and if it is
full, it does not move (n. 45).

15. If what is real is divided, it moves ; but if it moves, it can-
not have body ; for, if it had body it would have parts, and would no
longer be one. R. P. 114.

17. This argument, then, is the greatest proof that it is one
alone; but the following are proofs of it also. If it were a many,
these would have to be of the same kind as I say that the one is. For
if there is earth and water, and air and iron, and gold and fire, and
if one thing is living and another dead, and if things are black and
white and all that men say they really are, — if that is so, and if we
see and hear aright, .each one of these must be such as we at first
concluded that reality was, and they cannot be changed or altered.
Whereas we say that we see and hear and understand aright, and yet
we believe that what is warm becomes cold, and what is cold warm ;
that what is hard turns soft, and what is soft hard ; that what is living
dies, and that things are born from what lives not ; and that all those
things are changed. We think that iron, which is hard, is rubbed
away with the finger, passing away in rust; and so with gold and
stone and everything which we fancy to be strong, so that it turns
out that we neither see nor know realities. Earth, too, and stone
are formed out of water. Now these things do not agree with one
another. We said that there were many things that were eternal
and had forms and strength of their own, and yet we fancy that they
all suffer alteration, and that they change with each perception. It
is clear, then, that we did not ser aright after all, nor are we right in
believing that all these things are many. They would not change
if they were real, but each thing would be just what we believed it
to be ; for nothing is stronger than true reality. But if it has changed,
what was has passed away, and what was not is come into being. So
then, if there were many things, they would have to be just of the
same nature as the one. R. P. 115.

TRANSLATIONS OF JOHN BURNETc

EARLY GREEK THINKERS 186

THE PYTHAGOREANS

We stated tinder Pythagoras that he must be distinguished from
his followers. We give below Aristotle's account of the celebrated
theory of the order that number relations are the true reality of the
world. The greatest work of the Pythagoreans was done in mathe-
matics, and they certainly believed that the earth is round and goes
round the sun.

But amongst these, and prior to them, those called Pythagoreans,
applying themselves to the study of the mathematical sciences, first
advanced these views; and having been nurtured therein, they con-
sidered the first principles of these to be the first principles of all en-
tities. But since, among these, numbers by nature are the first, and in
numbers they fancied they beheld many resemblances for entities and
things that are being produced, rather than in fire, and earth, and
water ; because, to give an instance, such a particular property of num-
bers is justice, and such soul and mind; and another different one is
opportunity ; and it is the case, so to speak, in like manner with each of
the other things ;

Moreover, also, in numbers discerning the passive conditions and
reasons of harmonies, since it was apparent that, indeed, other things
in their nature were in all points assimilated unto numbers, and that
the numbers were the first of the entire of Nature, hence they supposed
the elements of numbers to be the elements of all entities, and the
whole heaven to be an harmony and number. And as many phenomena
as they could demonstrate to be conformable, both in their numbers
and harmonies, with the passive conditions and parts of the heaven,
and with its entire arrangement, these they collected and adapted to
their philosophy: and if there was any interval left anywhere, they
supplied the deficiency, in order that there might be a chain of con-
nexion running through their entire system. Now, I say, as an illus-
tration, since the decade seems to be a thing that is perfect, and to
have comprised the entire nature of numbers, hence they also assert
that the bodies that are borne through the heaven are truly ten in num-
ber; and whereas nine only are apparent, on this account they con-
stitute the confronting earth tenth. But respecting these theorists, we
have arrived at more accurate decisions in other parts of our works.

V 2-12

186 EARLY GREEK THINKERS

But the reason why we have gone in review through these philo-
sophers is this, in order that we may receive also from them what they
have already laid down as being first principles, and in what manner
they fall in with the causes just enumerated. Undoubtedly do these
appear to consider number to be a first principle, and, as it were, a
material cause of entities, and as both their passive conditions and
habits, and that the even and the odd are elements of number ; and of
these, that the one is finite and the other infinite, and that unity, doubt-
less, is composed of both of these, for that it is both even and odd, and
that number is composed of unity, and that, as has been stated, the
entire heaven is composed of numbers.

But others of these very philosophers affirm that first principles
are ten in number, denominated in accordance with the following co-
ordinate series, namely : —

Bound. Infinity. | Rest. Motion.

Odd. Even. | Straight. Crooked.

Unity. Plurality. [ Light. Darkness.

Right. Left. | Good. Bad.

Male. Female. Square. Oblong.

PROTAGORAS

Protagoras was born at Abdera about 480 B. C. He was the first
of the so-called sophists. For forty years he travelled from place to
place in Greece, educating his hearers in the culture of the time.
When about seventy, he was exiled because he had begun one of his
books with the sentence, ''Concerning the gods, I cannot say, whether
they exist or not." He believed all knowledge to be merely a ques-
tion of opinion, and each "man to be the measure of all things." His
great significance, from this point of view, is because he showed that
our sensations are personal and do not necessarily give an exact know-
ledge of the things they represent, thus forcing thinkers to look behind
the sensation to find the truth in which all men can agree. Practically
nothing is extant of his works, but his doctrine is discussed in Plato's
Theaetetus.

EARLY GREEK THINKERS 187

SOCRATES

Socrates was born about 470 B. C, at Athens, the son of the
statuary Sophroniscus. He was pug-nosed, thick lipped, big bellied,
and bulging eyed — the very opposite of the Greek ideal of beauty. He
served two campaigns in the army with credit, but did not seek distinc-
tion in this field. The rest of his life was spent at Athens, enlivened by;
his conversations with his friends and townspeople. Xantippe, his
wife, berated him for his slothfulness and his three sons seem never
to have amounted to much, so his domestic life was far from happy.
He was accused by the Athenians of introducing strange gods and cor-
rupting the youth, and was sentenced to death and died from drinking
the hemlock in 399 B. C.

His influence, philosophically, has been enormous, partly on ac-
count of his own beliefs ; but even more through his influence on Plato.
He believed in the possibility of virtue, and that knowledge itself would
bring virtue, and sought to find the ground for knowledge by defining
things and grouping them into classes of which could be made a general
statement which would hold good. He wrote nothing, but his teachings
are described from a practical standpoint by Xenophon in the Memor-
ibilia, and, much mixed with Plato's own doctrines, in the Platonic dia-
logues.

LEUKIPPOS AND DEMOKRITOS.

We have classed Leukippos and Demokritos together because the
most satisfactory early statement of their atomic theory considers them
in this way. The very existence of Leukippos has been doubted, as
the theory seems to have been studied in the more developed form in
which it was set by Demokritos.

Demokritos was born at Abdera, about 460 B. C. He travelled
widely in Africa and Asia, and died about the age of a hundred. He
started from the idea of the Atom of Leukippos, and developed it. His
Works were very highly considered, not only for thought, but for form,
and their loss is one of the greatest in the history of thought. He
placed the permanent reality of the world in numberless atoms, and be-
lieved that the universe as a whole is the result of the mechanical

188 EARLY GREEK THINKERS

motions and combination of these purposeless atoms. Color, sound,
taste, and temperature, he believed to be personal and subjective, but
thought form, weight, and hardness to belong to things in themselves.

FRAGMENTS

Leukippos and Demokritos have decided about all things prac-
tically by the same method and on the same theory, taking as their
starting-point what naturally comes first. Some of the ancients had
held that the real must necessarily be one and immovable; for, said
they, empty space is not real, and motion would be impossible with-
out empty space separated from matter; nor, further, could reality
be a many, if there were nothing to separate things. And it makes
no difference if any one holds that the All is not continuous, but
discrete, with its parts in contact (Pythagorean view), instead of
holding that reality is many, not one, and that there is empty space.
For, if it is divisible at every point there is no one, and therefore no
many, and the Whole is empty (Zeno) ; while, if we say it is divisible
in one place and not in another, this looks like an arbitrary fiction;
for up to what point and for what reason will part of the Whole be
in this state and be full, while the rest is discrete? And, on the
same grounds, they further say that there can be no motion. In
consequence of these reasonings, then, going beyond perception and
overlooking it in the belief that we ought to follow the argument,
they say that the All is one and immovable, and some of them that
it is infinite (Melissos), for any limit would be bounded by empty
space. This, then, is the opinion they expressed about the truth, and
these are the reasons which led them to do so. Now, so far as ar-
guments go, this conclusion does seem to follow; but, if we appeal
to facts, to hold such a view looks like madness. No one who is
mad is so far out of his senses that fire and ice appear to him to be
one; it is only things that are right, and things that appear right
from habit, in which madness makes some people see no difference.

Leukippos, however, thought he had a theory which was in har-
mony with sense-perception, and did not do away with coming into
being and passing away, nor motion, nor the multiplicity of things.
He made this concession to experience, while he conceded, on the
other hand, to those who invented the One that motion was impos-
sible without the void, that the void was not real, and that nothing
of what was real was not real. "For," said he, "that which is, strictly
speaking, real is an absolute plenum; but the plenum is not one.

EARLY GREEK THINKERS 189

On the contrary, there are an infinite number of them, and they are
invisible owing to the smallness of their bulk. They move in the
void (for there is a void) ; and by their coming together they effect
coming into being; by their separation, passing away."

He says that the worlds arise when many bodies are collected
together into the mighty void from the surrounding space and rush
together. They come into collision, and those which are of similar
shape and like form become entangled, and from their entanglement
the heavenly bodies arise.

TRANSLATIONS OF JOHN BURNET.

190

PLATO

ALTHOUGH so much remains of Plato's writings, but little is
known of his life. His true name was Aristocles, Plato being a nick-
name given him on account of his broad (platus) shoulders. He was
born in 429 B. C., and died in 348 B. C. He is said to have visited
Cyrene and Egypt.

Out of the insistence of Protagoras that sensations are merely
personal, there had come to be distinguished two realities, the transitory
reality of the sensation, and a permanent reality, which philosophy had
sought and had not found. Plato believed that it was possible to make
a permanently true general statement about a class of things, and
argued that there must be a permanently existing reality analogous to
the class concept, in accordance with which the individual thing must
take its form. In other words, he believed that such a general con-
ception as man must have a real, though supersensible, existence, and
that each individual human being must correspond to this concept.
This is his famous doctrine of Ideas. The highest of all Ideas was
the good, and he thought the universe in its parts to be reaching toward
this unity.

The Theaetetus shows his theory of knowledge, the Parmenides
explains and criticises his doctrine of Ideas, and the Phsedo extends this
doctrine and applies it to immortality. We give, also, from the Repub-
lic, his conception of the ideal state, the first great contribution to the
social sciences.

LEMNIAN ATHENA
After Phidias. Noiv in Dresden.

PHIDIAS was born about 500 B. C. at Athens. He studied under Ageladas
of Argos; began his great work as a sculptor in the time of Cimon and
brought it to its zenith in the age of Pericles. His great statue of
Athena in the Parthenon, composed of gold, ivory, and precious stones was
completed in 437 B. C. ; his colossal statue of Zeus, wrought of like materials.
was set up at Olympiu about 433 B. C. Nothing but small wretched copies
of these works and their fame, remains. He superintended all the public
architecture and sculpture of Athens, and himself executed some of the frieze
• if the IcinpK- <>i Athena. He was the greatest sculptor of Cn

AM3HTA JWAIMM3J

Plato s writings, but little is

i otov^ --rjfNUHrtw, 4?hUto being a nick-
*• w «ud to have visited

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g-jiqoo barbiov// Ii/;rrt?. 3n<[ gnirfjo'/T .T) .(I f,f,i_ jr.-.nlj; j;iqrn. -r.v/

jr[(fnq orfl i'r, f)obn'jJriiTjqrjR oil .snicmoi .orrrr.1 -tioifj bn 'i "if.

1 • "• ;f6^*rt:^rtj "i<M Vfnofe bolfj- ' uJoojiii-rn;

argued that t'i'--y>'j^?*^ i" T!' ^'/ oil .nn-j-It/ . -jid in

the class concept, *» *« .-. v-j*^ - *-.£* -vj- *

take its form. In other words, he believed that such a general coo-

ception as man must have a real, though supersensible, existence, tad

that each individual human being must correspond to this concept.

< famous doctrine of Ideas. The highest of all Ideas was

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191

THE POSSIBILITY OF KNOWLEDGE

THEAETETUS

THE PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE
EUCLID TERPSION SOCRATES THEAETETUS THEODORUS

Euclid. Are you only just arrived from the country, Terpsion?

Terpsion. No, I came some time ago: and I have been in the
Agora looking for you, and wondering that I could not find you.

Euc. Why, I was not in the city at all.

Terp. Where then?

Euc. As I was going down to the harbour, I met Theaetetus;
he was being carried up to Athens from the army at Corinth.

Terp. Do you mean that he was alive or dead?

Euc. He was scarcely alive ; for he has been badly wounded, and
what is worse, the sickness which prevails in the army has fastened
upon him.

Terp. Is that the dysentery?

Euc. Yes.

Terp. Alas ! what a loss he will be !

Euc. Yes, Terpsion, he is a noble fellow; I heard some one
highly praising his behaviour in this very battle.

Terp. I do not wonder at that ; I should wonder at hearing any-
thing else of him. But why did he go on, instead of stopping at
Megara?

Euc. He wanted to get home, for the fact was that I begged
and advised him to remain, but he would not; so I set him on his
way, and turned back, and then I remembered what Socrates had
said of him, and thought how remarkably this, like all his predictions,
had been fulfilled. I believe that he had seen him a little before his
own death, when Theaetetus was a youth, and he had a conversation
with him, which he repeated to me when I came to Athens; he
was full of admiration of his genius, and said that he would most
certainly be a great man, if he lived.

Terp. That has certainly proved true; but what was the con-
versation? can you tell me?

182 EARLY GREEK THINKERS

Etic. No, indeed, not without preparation; but I took notes as
soon as I got home, which I filled up from memory and wrote out
at leisure; and whenever I went to Athens, I asked Socrates about
any point which I had forgotten, and on my return I made corrections ;
in this way I have nearly the whole conversation written down.

Terp. True; I have heard you say that before, and have always
been intending to ask you to show me the writing, but have let the
opportunity slip; and now, why not out with the book? — having just
Come from the country, I should gieatly like to rest.

Euc. I, too, shall be very glad of a rest, for I went with Theae-
tettts as far as Erineum. Let us go in, then, and, while we are
reposing, the servant shall read to us.

Terp. Very good.

Euc. Here is the roll, Terpsion ; I need only observe that I have
introduced Socrates, not as narrating to me, but as actually convers-
ing with the persons whom he mentioned — these were, Theodorus the
geometrician (of Cyrene), and Theaetetus. I have omitted, for the
sake of convenience, the interlocutory words 'I said/ 'I remarked,'
which he used when he spoke of himself, and again, 'he agreed,' or
'disagreed,' in the answer, as the repetition of them would have been
troublesome.

Terp. That is quite right, Euclid.

Euc. And now, boy, you may take the roll and read.

Euclid's servant reads.

Socrates. If I cared enough about the Cyrenians, Theodorus, I
would ask you whether there are any rising geometricians or philos-
ophers in that part of the world. But I am more interested in our
Athenian youth, and I would rather know who among them are likely
to do well. I observe them as far as I can myself, and I enquire
of any one whom they follow, and I see that a great many of them
follow you, in which they are quite right, considering your eminence
in geometry and in other ways. I should like to know, if you have
met with any one who is good for anything.

Theodorus. Yes, Socrates, there is one very remarkable Athenian
youth with whom I have become acquainted, whom I commend to
you as well worthy of your attention. If he had been a beauty I
should have been afraid to praise him, lest you should suppose that
I was in love with him; but he is no beauty, and you must not be
offended if I say that he is very like you; for he has a snub nose

PLATO 193

and projecting eyes, although these features are less marked in him
than in you. Seeing, then, that he has no personal attractions, I
may freely say, that in all my acquaintance, which is very large, I
never knew any one who was his equal in natural gifts; for he has
a quickness of apprehension which is almost unrivalled, and he is
remarkably gentle, and also the most courageous of men ; there is a
union of qualities in him such as I have never seen in any other, and
should scarcely have thought that the combination was possible; for
those who, like him, have quick and ready and retentive wits, have
generally also quick tempers; they are ships without ballast, which
go darting about, and are mad rather than courageous; and the
steadier sort, when they have to face study, are stupid and cannot
remember. Whereas he moves surely and smoothly and successfully
in the path of knowledge and enquiry; and he is full of gentleness,
and always making progress, like the noiseless flow of a river of oil;
at his age, it is wonderful.

Soc. That is good news; and whose son is he?

Theod. The name of his father I have forgotten, but the youth
himself is the middle one of those who are approaching us; he and
his companions have been anointing in the outer court, and now
they seem to have finished, and are coming towards us. Look and see
whether you know him.

Soc. I know the youth, but I do not know his name ; he is uic
son of Euphronius the Sunian, who was himself an eminent man, and
such another as his son is, according to your account of him; I
believe that he left a considerable fortune.

Theod. Theaetetus, Socrates, is his name; but I rather think
that the property disappeared in the hands of trustees ; notwithstand-
ing which he is wonderfully liberal.

Soc. He must be a fine fellow ; tell him to come and sit by me.

Theod. I will. Come hither, Theaetetus, and sit by Socrates.

Soc. By all means, Theaetetus, in order that I may see the reflec-
tion of myself in your face, for Theodorus says that we are alike;
and yet if each of us held in his hands a lyre, and he said that they
were alike, should we at once take his word, or should we ask
whether ne who said this was a musician?

Theaetetus. We should ask.

Soc. And if we found that he was a musician, we should take
his word; and if not, not?

Theaet. True.

194 PLATO

Soc. And if this supposed likeness of our faces is a matter of
any interest to us, we should enquire whether he who says that we
are alike is a painter or not?

Theaet. Certainly we should.

Soc. And is Theodorus a painter?

Theaet. I never heard that he was.

Soc. Is he a geometrician?

Theaet. There can be no doubt about that, Socrates.

Soc. And is he an astronomer and calculator and musician, and
in general an educated man?

Theaet. I think that he is.

Soc. If, then, he remarks on the similarity of our persons, either
in the way of praise or blame, there is no particular reason why we
should attend to him.

Theaet. I should say not.

Soc. But if he praises the virtue or wisdom which are the mental
endowments of either of us, then he who heard the praises will natur-
ally desire to have an examination, and he who is praised ought to
be willing to exhibit himself.

Theaet. Very true, Socrates.

Soc. Then now is the time, my dear Theaetetus, for you to exhibit
and for me to have the examination; for although Theodorus has
praised many a citizen and stranger in my hearing, never did I hear
him praise any one as he has been praising you.

Theaet. I am glad of that, Socrates ; but what if he was only in
jest?

Soc. Nay, that is not his way ; and I cannot allow you to retract
your assent on that ground. For if you do, he will have to clear
himself on oath, and I am sure that no one will accuse him of false
witness ; do not then be afraid of standing to your word.

Theaet. I will do as you wish.

Soc. Well, then, I should like to ask what you learn of Theo-
'dorus; something of geometry, I suppose?

Theaet. Yes.

Soc. And astronomy and harmony and calculation?

Theaet. I do my best.

Soc. Yes, my boy, and so do I; and my desire is to learn of
him, and of anybody who seems to understand these things. And
I get on pretty well in general; but there is a little matter which I
want you and the company to aid me in investigating. Will you

PLATO 195

answer me a question : 'Is not learning growing wiser about that which
you learn?'

Theaet. Of course.

Soc. And by wisdom the wise are wise?

Theaet. Yes.

Soc. And is that different from knowledge ?

Theaet. What is different?

Soc. Wisdom ; are not men wise in that which they know ?

Theaet. Certainly.

Soc. Then wisdom and knowledge are the same?

Theaet. Yes.

Soc. And this is the very difficulty which I can never explain
to myself — What is the nature of knowledge ? can we tell that ? What
do you say? which of us will answer first? whoever misses shall sit
down, as at a game of ball, and be donkey, as the boys say, to the
rest of the company; he who lasts out his competitors in the game
without missing, shall be our king, and shall have the right of asking
any questions which he likes. Why is there no reply? I hope,
Theodorus, that I am not betrayed by my love of conversation? I
only want to make us talk and be friendly and sociable.

Theod. The reverse of rudeness, Socrates; but I would rather
that you would ask one of the young fellows ; the truth is, that I am
not in the habit of playing at your game of question and answer, and
I am too old to acquire the habit; this will suit the young much
better, and they will improve much more than I shall, for youth is
always able to improve. Having already made a beginning with him,
I would advise you to detain Theaetetus, and interrogate him.

Soc. Do you hear, Theaetetus, what Theodorus says ; the philoso-
pher, whom you would not like to disobey, and whose word ought to
be a command to a young man, bids me interrogate you. Take
courage, then, and nobly say what you think that knowledge is.

Theaet. Well, Socrates, I will answer as you and he bid me ; and,
if I make a mistake, you will be sure to correct me.

Soc. That we will, if we can.

Theaet. Then, I think that the sciences which I learn from Theo-
dorous, geometry, and those which you just now mentioned, are know-
ledge; and I would include the art of the cobbler and other crafts-
men ; these, all and each of them, are knowledge.

Soc. Too much, Theaetetus, too much ; the nobility and liberality
of your own nature make you give many and diverse things, when

196 PLATO

I am asking for one simple thing.

Theaet. What do you mean, Socrates?

Soc. Perhaps nothing. I will endeavour, however, to explain
what I believe to be my meaning: When you speak of cobbling, you
mean the art of making shoes?

Theaet. That is my meaning.

Soc. And when you speak of carpentering, you mean the art of
making wooden implements?

Theaet. Yes.

Soc. In both which cases you define the subjects of the two arts?

Theaet. True.

Soc. But that, Theaetetus, was not the question; we wanted to
know not the subjects, nor yet the number of the arts or sciences,
for we were not going to count them, but we wanted to know the
nature of knowledge in the abstract. Am I not right?

Theaet. Perfectly right.

Soc. Take the following example : Suppose that a person were
to ask about some very common and obvious thing. Shall I say —
What is clay? and we were to answer him, that there is a clay of
potters, there is a clay of oven-makers, there is a clay of brick-
makers; would not that be ridiculous?

Theaet. Truly.

Soc. In the first place, there would be an absurdity in assuming
that he who asked the question would understand from our answer
the meaning of the word 'clay,' merely because we added 'of the image-
makers,' or of any other workers. For how can a man understand
the name of that of which he does not know the nature?

Theaet. To be sure he cannot.

Soc. Then he who does not know what science or knowledge is,
has no knowledge of the art or science of making shoes?

Theaet. None.

Soc. Nor of any other science?

Theaet. No.

Soc. And when a man is asked 'what science or knowledge is,'
to give as an answer the name of some art or science, is ridiculous;
for the question is, 'What is knowledge?' and he replies, 'a know-
ledge of this and that.'

Theaet. True.

Soc. Moreover, he might answer shortly an'd simply, but he
makes an enormous circuit. For example, when asked about the clay,

PLATO 197

he might have said simply, that 'clay is moistened earth' — whose clay
is not to the point.

Theaet. Yes, Socrates, that appears to be easy, as you state the
matter. And, if I am not mistaken, you mean something like what
occurred to me and to my friend here, your namesake, Socrates, in a
recent discussion.

Soc. What was that, Theaetetus?

Theaet. Theodorus was writing out for us something about roots,
such as the roots of three or five feet, showing that in linear measure-
ment (i. e. comparing the sides of the squares), they are incommen-
surable by the unit; he selected the numbers which are roots, up to
seventeen, but he went no farther; and as there are innumerable roots,
the notion occurred to us of attempting to include them all under one
name or class.

Soc. And did you find such a class?

Theaet. I think that we did; but I should like to have your
opinion.

Soc. Let me hear.

Theaet. We divided all numbers into two classes; those which
are made up of equal factors multiplying into one another, which we
represented as squares and called squares, or equilateral numbers; —
that was one class.

Soc. Very good.

Theaet. The intermediate numbers, such as three and five, and
every other number which is made up of unequal factors, either of a
greater multiplied by a less, or of a less multiplied by a greater, and
when regarded as a figure, is contained in unequal sides; — all these
we represented as oblong figures, and called them oblong numbers.

Soc. Capital; and what followed?

Theaet. The lines, or sides, which are the roots of (or whose
squares are equal to) the equilateral plane numbers, were called by us
lengths or magnitudes ; and the lines which are the roots of (or whose
squares are equal to the oblong numbers, were called powers or roots ;
the reason of this latter name being, that they are commensurable
with the lines or sides not in linear measurement, but in the value of
their squares; and the same about solids.

Soc. Excellent, my boy ; I think that you fully justify the praises
of Theodorus, and that he will not be found guilty of false witness.

Theaet. But I am unable, Socrates, to give you a similar answer
about knowledge, which is what you appear to want; and therefore

198 PLATO

Theodorus is a deceiver after all.

Soc. Well, but suppose that you were running a course, and some
one said in praise of you, that he had never known any youth who
was as good a runner, and afterwards you were beaten in a race by a
grown-up man, who was a great runner — would his praise be any the
less true?

Theaet. I do not say that.

Soc. And is the discovery of the nature of knowledge really a
little matter, as I just now said, or one requiring great skill?

Theaet. Requiring the greatest, as I should say.

Soc. Well, then, be of good cheer; do not say that Theodorus
was mistaken about you, but do your best to ascertain the true nature
of knowledge, as well as of other things.

Theaet. I am eager enough, Socrates, if that would bring to light
the truth.

Soc. Come, you made a good beginning just now ; let your own
answer about roots be your model, and as you comprehended them
all in one class, try and bring the many sorts of knowledge under one
name.

Theaet. I can assure you, Socrates, that I have tried very often,
when I heard the questions which came from you ; but I can neither
persuade myself that I have any answer to give, nor hear of any one
who answers as you would have me answer; and I cannot get rid
of the desire to answer.

Soc. These are the pangs of labour, my dear Theaetetus; you
have something within you which you are bringing to the birth.

Theaet. I do not know, Socrates ; I only say what I feel.

Soc. And did you never hear, simpleton, that I am the son of
a midwife, brave and burly, whose name was Phaenarete?

Theaet. Yes, I have heard that.

Soc. And that I myself practise midwifery?

Theaet. No, I never heard that.

Soc. Let me tell you that I do, though, my friend ; but you must
not reveal the secret, as the world in general have not found me out;
and therefore they only say of me, that I am an exceedingly strange
being, who drive men to their wits' end; did you ever hear that?

Theaet. Yes.

Soc. Shall I tell you the reason?

Theaet. By all means.

Soc. I must make you understand the situation of the midwives,

PLATO 199

and then you will see my meaning better: — No woman, as you are
probably aware, who is still able to conceive and bear, attends other
women, but only those who are past bearing.

Theaet. Yes, I know.

Soc. The reason of this is said to be that Artemis — the goddess
of childbirth — is a virgin, and she honours those who are like herself ;
but she could not allow the barren to be midwives, because human
nature cannot know the mystery of an art without experience; and
therefore she assigned this office to those who by reason of age are
past bearing, honouring them from their likeness to herself.

Theaet. That is natural.

Soc. And a natural, or rather necessary inference is, that the
midwives know better than others who is pregnant and who is not?

Theaet. Very true.

Soc. And by the use of potions and incantations they are able to
arouse the pangs and to soothe them at will; they can make those
bear who have a difficulty in bearing, and if they choose they can
smother the babe in the womb.

Theaet. They can.

Soc. Did you ever remark that they are also cunning match-
makers, and have an entire knowledge of what unions are likely to
produce a brave brood?

Theaet. I never heard of this.

Soc. Then let me tell you that this is their greatest pride, more
than cutting the umbilical cord. And if you reflect, you will see that
the same art which cultivates and gathers in the fruits of the earth,
will be most likely to know in what soils the several plants or seeds
should be deposited.

Theaet. Yes, the same art.

Soc. And do you suppose that this is otherwise in the case of
women ?

Theaet. No, that is not likely.

Soc. No, indeed ; but the midwives, who are respectable women
and have a character to lose, avoid this department of practice, because
they are afraid of being called procuresses, which is a name given to
those who join together man and woman in an unlawful and unscien-
tific way; and yet the true midwife is also the true and only match-
maker.

Theaet. That I understand.

Soc. Such are the midwives, whose work is a very important

200 PLATO

one, but not so important as mine: for women do not bring into the
world at one time real children, and at another time idols which are
with difficulty distinguished from them ; if they did, then the discern-
ment of the true and false birth would be the crowning achievement
of the art of midwifery — you would think that?

Theaet. Yes, I certainly should.

Soc. Well, my art of midwifery is in most respects like theirs;
but the difference lies in this — that I attend men and not women, and
I practise on their souls when they are in labour, and not on their
bodies; and the triumph of my art is in examining whether the
thought which the mind of the young man is bringing to the birth
is a false idol or a noble and true creation. And like the midwives,
I am barren, and the reproach which is often made against me, that
I ask questions of others and have not the wit to answer them myself,
is very just; the reason is, that the god compels me to be a midwife,
but forbids me to bring forth. And therefore I am not myself wise,
nor have I anything which is the invention or offspring of my own
soul, but the way is this: — Some of those who converse with me, at
first appear to be absolutely dull, yet afterwards, as our acquaintance
ripens, if the god is gracious to them, they all of them make aston-
ishing progress; and this not only in their own opinion but in that
of others. There is clear proof that they have never learned any-
thing of me, but they have acquired and discovered many noble things
of themselves, although the god and I help to deliver them. And
the proof is, that many of them in their ignorance, attributing all to
themselves and despising me, either of their own accord or at the
instigation of others, have gone away sooner than they ought; and
the result has been that they have produced abortions by reason of
their evil communications, or have lost the children of which I delivered
them by an ill bringing up, deeming lies and shadows of more value
than the truth; and they have at last ended by seeing themselves,
as others see them, to be great fools. Aristides, the son of Lysimachus,
is one of this sort, and there are many others. The truants often
return to me, and beg that I would converse with them again — they
are ready to go down on their knees — and then, if my familiar allows,
which is not always the case, I receive them, and they begin to grow
again. Dire are the pangs which my art is able to arouse and to
allay in those who have intercourse with me, just like the pangs of
women in childbirth; night and day they are full of perplexity and
travail which is even worse than that of the women. So much for

PLATO 201

them. And there are others, Theaetetus, who come to me apparently
having nothing in them; and as I know that they have no need of
my art, I coax them into another union, and by the grace of God I
can generally tell who is likely to do them good. Many of them
I have given away to Prodicus, and some to other inspired sages.
I tell you this long story, friend Theaetetus, because 1 suspect, as
indeed you seem to think yourself, that you are in labour — great
with some conception. Come then to me, who am a midwife and the
son of a midwife, and try to answer the question which I will ask
you. And if I abstract and expose your first-born because I dis-
cover upon inspection that the conception which you have formed is
a vain shadow, do not quarrel with me on that account, as the manner
of women is when their first children are taken from them. For I
have actually known some who were ready to bite me when I deprived
them of a darling folly; they did not perceive that I acted from
goodwill, not knowing that no god is the enemy of man (that was
not within the range of their ideas) ; neither am I their enemy in all
this, but religion will never allow me to admit falsehood, or to stifle
the truth. Once more, then, Theaetetus, I repeat my old question,
'What is knowledge?' and do not say that you cannot tell, but quit
yourself like a man, and by the help of God you will be able to tell.

Theaet. At any rate, Socrates, after such an exhortation I should
be ashamed of not trying to do my best. And, according to my
present notion, he who knows perceives what he knows, and therefore
I should say that knowledge is perception.

Soc. Bravely said, boy; that is the way in which you should
express your opinion. And now, suppose that you and I have an
examination, and see whether this conception of yours is a true child
or a mere wind-egg. And so you say that perception is knowledge?

Theaet. Yes.

Soc. I think that you have delivered yourself of a very important
doctrine about knowledge, which is indeed that of Protagoras, who
has another way of expressing the same thing when he says, that
man is the measure of all things, of the existence of things that are,
and of the non-existence of things that are not: — You have read that?

Theaet. Yes, I have read that, again and again.

Soc. Does he not mean to say that things are to you such as they
appear to you, and are to me such as they appear to me, for you and
J are men?

Theaet. Yes, that is what he says.

V 2-13

202 PLATO

Soc. Such a wise man has doubtless a meaning: let us try to
understand him ; the same wind is blowing, and yet one of us may be
cold and the other not, or one may be slightly and the other very cold ?

Theaet. Very true.

Soc. Now is the wind, regarded not in relation to us but ab-
solutely, cold or not ; or are we to say, with Protagoras, that the wind
is cold to him who is cold, and not to him who is not?

Theaet. I suppose the last.

Soc. This is what appears to each of them?

Theaet. Yes.

SoCc And 'appears to him' means the same as 'he perceives?'

Theaet. True.

Soc. Then appearance and perception coincide in this instance of
hot and cold, and in similar instances; for things appear, or may
be supposed to be, to each one such as he perceives them?

Theaet. Yes.

Soc Then perception is always of existence, and being the same
as knowledge is unerring?

Theaet. That is clear.

Soc. Now, I verily and indeed suspect that Protagoras, who was
an almighty wise man, spoke these things in a parable to the common
herd, like you and me, but he told the truth, 'his truth/ in secret to
his own disciples.

Theaet. What do you mean, Socrates?

Soc. I am about to speak of an illustrious philosophy, in which
all things are said to be relative; you cannot rightly call anything
by any name, such as great or small, or heavy or light, for the great
will be small and the heavy light — there is. no one or some or any
sort of nature, but out ot motion and change and admixture all things
are becoming, which 'becoming' is by us incorrectly called being,
but is really becoming, for nothing really is, but all things are becom-
ing. Summon all philosophers — Protagoras, Heracleitus, Empedocles,
and the rest of them, one after another, with the exception of Parmen-
ides, and they will agree with you in this. Summon the great masters
of either kind of poetry — Epicharmus, the prince of Comedy, and
Homer of Tragedy; when the latter sings of

'Ocean the birth of gods, and mother Tethys,'
does he not mean that all things are the offspring of flux and motion?

Theaet. Yes, that is his meaning.

Soc. And who could take up arms against such a great army, and

PLATO 203

Homer who is their general, and not be ridiculous?

Theaet. Who indeed, Socrates?

Soc. Yes, Theaetetus ; and besides this there are plenty of proofs
which will show that motion is the source of that which appears to be
and becomes, and rest of not-being and destruction; for fire and
warmth, which are supposed to be the parent and nurse of all other
other things, are born of friction, which is a kind of motion ; — is not
that the origin of fire?

Theaet. Yes.

Soc. And the race of animals is generated in the same way?

Theaet. Certainly.

Soc. And is not the bodily habit spoiled by rest and idleness, but
preserved for a long time by motion and exercise?

Theaet. True.

Soc. And is not this true of the mental habit also? Is not the
soul informed, and improved, and preserved by thought and attention,
which are motions; but when at rest, which in the soul means only
want of thought and attention, is uninformed, and speedily forgets
whatever she has learned?

Theaet. True.

Soc. Then motion is a good, and rest an evil, both of the soul
and of the body?

Theaet. True.

Soc. I may affirm, also, that the breathless calm and stillness
and the like are wasting and impairing, and wind and storm pre-
serving; and the palmary argument of all, which I strongly urge is
the golden chain in Homer, by which he means the sun, thus indicating
that while the sun and the heavens go round, and all things human
and divine are and are preserved, but if the sun were to be arrested
in his course, then all things would be destroyed, and, as the saying
is, Chaos would come again.

Theaet. I believe, Socrates, that you have truly explained his
meaning.

Soc. Then apply this to perception, my good friend, and first of
all to vision; that which you call white colour is not in your eyes,
and is not a distinct thing which exists out of them, having no assign-
able place ; for that would imply order and rest, an'd there would be
no process of generation.

Theaet. Then what is colour?

Soc. Let us carry out the principle which has just been affirmed,

204 PLATO

that nothing is self-existent, and then we shall see that every colour,
white, black, and every other colour, arises out of the eye meeting
the appropriate motion, and that what we term the substance of each
colour is neither the active nor the passive element, but something
which passes between them, and is peculiar to each percipient; are
you certain that the several colours appear to every animal — say to
a dog — as they appear to you?

Theaet. Indeed I am not.

Soc. Or that anything appears the same to you as to another
man? Would you not rather question whether you yourself see the
same thing at different times, because you are never exactly the same ?

Theaet. I should.

Soc. And if that with which I compare myself in size, or which
I apprehended, were great or white or hot, it could not without act-
ually changing become different by mere contact with another ; nor
again, if the apprehending or comparing subject were great or white
or hot, could this, when unchanged from within, become changed
by any approximation or affection of any other thing. For already,
my friend, we see that there are most ridiculous and wonderful con-
tradictions into which we are only too readily falling, as Protagoras
and all who take his line of argument would remark.

Theaet. How is that, and what sort of contradictions do you
mean?

Soc. A little instance will sufficiently explain my meaning : Here
are six dice, which are a third more when compared with four, and
fewer by a half than twelve — they are more and also fewer — that
cannot be denied either by you or by any one.

Theaet. True.

Soc. Well, then suppose that Protagoras or some one asks
whether anything can become greater or more if not by increasing,
how would you answer him, Theaetetus?

Theaet. I should say no, Socrates, if I were to speak my mind
in reference to this last question, and if I were not afraid of contradict-
ing my former answer.

Soc. By Hera, well and divinely said, my friend. And if you
reply 'yes»* there will be a case for Euripides; 'for our tongue will
be unconvinced, but not our mind.'

Theaet. Very true.

Soc. The thoroughbred Sophists, wfio know all that can be
known about the mind, and argue only out of the superfluity of their

PLATO -05

wits, would have had a regular sparring-match over this. But you
and I, who have no professional aims, only desire to see what is the
real nature of our ideas, and whether they are consistent with each
other or not.

Theaet. Yes, that is what I should wish.

Soc. And I as much as you. And as this is our feeling, and
there is no hurry, why should we not gently and patiently review
our own thoughts, and examine and see what these appearances in us
really are? Concerning which, if I am not mistaken, we shall say: —
first, that nothing can be greater or less, either in number or magni-
tude, while remaining equal to itself — you will allow that?

Theaet. Yes.

Soc. Secondly, that without addition or subtraction there is no
increase or diminutioin of anything, but only equality.

Theaet. Quite true.

Soc. Thirdly, that what once was not and afterwards was, could
not be without becoming or having become.

Theaet. Yes, truly.

Soc. These three axioms, if I am not mistaken, were fighting
with one another in our minds in the case of the dice, or, again, in
such a case as this — when I say that I, at my age, who neither gain
nor lose in height, may this year be taller than you, who are still a
youth, and next year not so tall — not that I have lost, but that you
have increased: in such a case, I am afterwards what I once was
not; and yet I have not become, for I could not have become taller
without becoming — that is certain — any more than I could have
become less without losing somewhat of my height ; and I could give
you ten thousand examples of similar contradictions, if we admit them
at all. I believe that you understand me, Theaetetus ; for I suspect
that you have thought of these questions before.

Theaet. Yes, Socrates, and I am amazed when I think of them ;
indeed I am ; and I want to know what is the meaning of them, and
there are times when my head quie swims with the contemplation of
them.

Soc. I see, my dear Theaetetus, that Theodorus had a true in-
sight into your nature when he said that you were a philosopher, for
wonder is the feeling of a philosopher, and philosophy begins in
wonder; he was not a bad genealogist who said that Iris the mes-
senger of heaven is the child of Thaumas (wonder). But do you
know what is the explanation of this perplexity on the hypothesis

206 PLATO

which we attribute to Protagoras?

Theaet. Not as yet.

Soc. Then you will be obliged to me if I help you to unearth
the hidden truth or wisdom of a famous man or men.
Theaet. Certainly, I shall be very greatly obliged.

Soc. Take a look around, then, and see that none of the un-
initiated are listening. Now by the uninitiated I mean the people who
believe in nothing but what they can hold fast in their hands, and who
will not allow that action and generation and all that is invisible can
have any real existence.

Theaet. Yes, indeed, Socrates, they are very stubborn and repul-
sive mortals.

Soc. Yes, my boy, outer barbarians. Far more ingenious are
the brethren whose mysteries I am about to reveal to you. Their
principle is, that all is motion, and upon this all the affections of
which we were just now speaking are supposed to depend; there is
nothing but motion, which has two forms, one active and the other
passive, both in endless number, and out of the union and friction of
them there is generated a progeny in endless number, having two
forms,, sense and the object of sense, which are ever breaking forth
at the same moment and coming to the birth. The senses are
variously named hearing, seeing, smelling ; there is the sense of heat,
cold, pleasure, pain, desire, fear, and many more which are named,
and there are innumerable others which have no name; and there
are all sorts of colours of a nature akin to the sight, and of sounds
akin to the hearing, and other objects of sense which are akin to
the several senses. Do you see, Theaetetus, the bearing of this tale
on the preceding arguments?

Theaet. Indeed I do not.

Soc. Then attend, in the hope that there may be an end. The
meaning is that all these things are in motion, as I was saying, and
that this motion has degrees of swiftness or slowness ; and the slower
elements have their motions in the same place and about things near
them, and thus beget, but the things begotten are quicker, for their
motions are from place to place. Apply this to sense: — When the
eye and the appropriate object meet together and give birth to white-
ness and sensation of white, which could not have been given
by either of them going to any other object, then, while the sight
is flowing from the eye and whiteness from the colour-producing
element, the eye becomes fulfilled with sight, and sees, and becomes,

PLATO 207

not sight, but a seeing eye: the object which combines in forming
the colour is fulfilled with whiteness, and becomes not whiteness but
white, whether wood or stone, or whatever the object may be which
happens to be coloured white. And this is true of all sensations,
hard, warm, and the like, which are similarly to be regarded, as I
was saying before, not as having any absolute existence, but as being
all of them generated by motion in their intercourse with one another,
according to their kinds ; for of the agent and patient, taken singly,
as they say, no fixed idea can be framed, for the agent has no exist-
ence until united with the patient, and the patient has no existence
until united with the agent ; and that which unites with anything and
is an agent, when meeting with another thing, is converted into a
patient. And out of all this, as I said at first, there arises a general
reflection, which is, that there is no one or self-existent thing, but
everything is becoming and in relation ; and being has to be alto-
gether abolished, although custom and ignorance may compel us to
retain the use of the word. But philosophers tell us that we are not
to allow either the word 'something,' or 'belonging to something,'
or 'to me,' or 'this' or 'that,' or any other detaining name to be used ;
in the language of nature all things are being created and destroyed,
coming into being and passing into new forms ; nor can any name fix
or detain them ; he who attempts to fix them is easily refuted. And
this should be the way of speaking, not only of particulars but of
aggregates ; such aggregates as are expressed in the word 'man,' or
'stone,' or any name of an animal or of a class. O Theaetetus, are
not these speculations charming? And do you not like the taste of
them?

Theaet. I do not know what to say, Socrates; for, indeed, I
cannot make out whether you are giving your own opinion or only
wanting to draw me out.

Soc. Do you not remember, my friend, that I neither know, nor
pretend to know, anything of myself; I am barren, and attend on
you as a midwife, and this is why I soothe you, and offer you samples
of one philosopher after another, that you may taste them. And I
hope that I may at last help to bring your own opinion into the light
of day; when this has been accomplished, then we will determine
whether what you have brought forth is only a wind-egg or a real
and genuine creation. Therefore, keep up your spirits, and answer
like a man what you think.

Theaet. Ask me.

208 PLATO

Soc. Is your opinion that nothing is but what becomes? the
good and the noble, as well as all the other things which we were
mentioning ?

Theaet. When I hear you discoursing in this style, I think that
there is a great deal in what you say, and I am very ready to assent.

Soc. Let us not leave the argument unfinished, then; as there
still remains to be considered an objection which may be raised
about dreams and diseases, in particular about madness, and the var-
ious illusions of hearing and sight, or any other misapprehension.
For you know that in all these cases the theory of the truth of per-
ception appears to be unmistakably refuted, as in dreams and illu-
sions we certainly have false perceptions; and far from saying that
everything is which appears, we should rather say that nothing is
which appears.

Theaet. That is very true, Socrates.

Soc. But then, my boy, how can any one assert that knowledge
is perception, or that things are to each one as they appear?

Theaet. I am afraid to say, Socrates, that I have nothing to
answer, because you rebuked me just now for saying that; but I
certainly cannot undertake to argue that madmen or dreamers think
truly, when they imagine some of them that they are gods, and others
that they can fly, and are flying in their sleep.

Soc. Do you know that there is a question which is raised about
all these errors, and especially about waking and sleeping?

Theaet. What question?

Soc. A question which I think that you must often have heard
persons ask : — How can you prove whether at this moment we are
sleeping, and all our thoughts are a dream ; or whether we are awake,
and talking to one another in the waking state?

Theaet. Indeed, Socrates, I do not know how you can prove that
the one is any more true than the other, for all the phenomena corre-
spond ; and there is no difficulty in supposing that we have now been
talking to one another in our sleep; and when in a dream we seem
to be telling thoughts which are only dreams, the resemblance of
the two state is quite astonishing.

Soc. You see, then, that there is no difficulty in raising a doubt,
since there may even be a doubt whether we are awake or in a dream.
And as the time is equally divided in which we are asleep or awake,
in either sphere of existence the soul contends that the thoughts
which are present to our minds at the time are true ; and, during one

PLATO 209

half of our lives we affirm the truth of the one, and, during the other
half, of the other; and are equally confident of both.

Theaet. Certainly.

Soc. And may not the same be said of madness and other dis-
prders ? the difference is only that the times are not equal.

Theaet. Certainly.

Soc. And are truth or falsehood to be determined by duration
of time?

Theaet. That would be in many ways ridiculous.

Soc. But can you certainly determine in any other way which
of these opinions is true?

Theaet. I do not think that I can.

Soc. Listen, then, to a statement of the other side of the argu-
ment, which is made by the champions of appearance. They would
say, as I should imagine : — Can that which is wholly other, have any
similar quality or power? and observe, Theaetetus, that the word
'other' means not 'partially,' but 'wholly other.'

Theaet. Certainly, that which is wholly other cannot have any-
thing either potentially or in any way which is the same.

Soc. And must therefore be admitted to be unlike?

Theaet. True.

Soc. If, then, anything happens to become like or unlike itself
or another, that which becomes like we call the same — that which
becomes unlike, other?

Theaet. Certainly.

Soc. Were we not saying that there are agents many and infinite,
and patients many and infinite?

Theaet. Yes.

Soc. And also that different combinations will produce results
which are not the same, but different?

Theaet. Certainly.

Soc. Let us take you and me, or anything as an example : — there
is Socrates in health, and Socrates sick — Are they like or unlike?

Theaet. You mean to compare Socrates in health as a whole,
and Socrates in sickness as a whole?

Soc. Exactly ; that is my meaning.

Theaet. I answer, that are unlike.

Soc. And if unlike, they are other?

Theaet. Certainly.

Soc. And would you not say the same of Socrates sleeping and

210 PLATO

waking, or in any of the states which we were mentioning?

Theaet. I should.

Soc. All agents whose nature is to act upon others, have a dif-
ferent patient in Socrates, accordingly as he is well or ill?

Theaet. Of course.

Soc. And I, who am the patient, and that which is the agent,
will produce something different in each of the two cases?

Theaet. Certainly.

Soc. The wine which I drink when I am in health, appears sweet
and pleasant to me ?

Theaet. True.

Soc. For, as has been already acknowledged, the patient and
agent meet together and produce sweetness and a perception of sweet-
ness, which are in simultaneous motion, and the perception which
comes from the patient makes the tongue percipient, and the quality
of sweetness which arises out of and is moving about the wine, makes
the wine both to be and to appear sweet to the healthy tongue.

Theaet. Certainly; that has been already acknowledged.

Soc. But when I am sick, the wine really acts upon me as if I
were another and a different person?

Theaet. Yes.

Soc. The combination of the draught of wine, and the Socrates
who is sick, produces quite another result ; which is the sensation of
bitterness in the tongue, and the motion and creation of bitterness
in the wine, which becomes not bitterness but bitter; as I myself
become not perception but percipient?

Theaet. True.

Soc. There is no other object of which I shall ever have the
same perception, for another object would imply another perception,
and would make the percipient other and different; nor can that
object which affects me meeting another subject, produce the same
or become similar, for that too will produce another result from
another subject, and become different.

Theaet. True.

Soc. Neither can I for myself, have this sensation, nor the object
by or for itself, this quality.

Theaet. Certainly not.

Soc. When I perceive I must become percipient of something —
there can be no such thing as perceiving and perceiving nothing:
the quality of the object, whether sweet, bitter, or any other quality,

PLATO 211

must have relation to a perception; there cannot be anything sweet
which is sweet to no one.

Theaet. Certainly not.

Soc. Then the inference is, that we [the agent and patient] are
or become in relation to one another ; there is a law which binds us
one to the other, but not to any other existence, nor yet to ourselves ;
and therefore we can only be bound to one another ; so that whether
a person says that a thing is or becomes, he must say that it is or
becomes to or of or in relation to something else ; but he must not
say that anything is or becomes absolutely, or allow any one else to
say this : that is the conclusion.

Theaet. Very true, Socrates.

Soc. Then, if that which acts upon me has relation to me and to
no other, I and no other am the percipient of it?

Theaet. Of course.

Soc. Then my perception is true to me, and is always a part of
my being ; and as Protagoras says, to myself I am judge of what is
and what is not to me.

Theaet. That seems to be true.

Soc. How then, if I never err, and if my mind never trips in the
conception of being or becoming, can I fail of knowing that which
I perceive?

Theaet. You cannot.

Soc. Then you were quite right in affirming that knowledge is
only perception ; and the meaning turns out to be the same, whether
with Homer and Heracleitus, and all that company, you say that all
is motion and flux, or with the great sage Protagoras, that man is
the measure of all things ; or with Theaetetus, that, supposing all this,
perception is knowledge. Am I not right, Theaetetus, and may I
not say that this is your new-born child, of which I have delivered
you — What say you.

Theaet. I cannot but agree, Socrates.

Soc. Then this is the child, however he may turn out, which you
and I have with difficulty brought into the world. And now that
he is born, we must carry him round the hearth and see whether he
is worth rearing, or is only a wind-egg and a sham. Is he to be
reared in any case, and not exposed ? or will you bear to see an assault
made upon him, and not get into a passion if I take away your first-
born?

Theod. Theaetetus will not be angry, for he is very good-na-

212 PLATO

tured. But I should like to know, Socrates, by heaven I should,

whether you mean to say that all this is untrue ?

Soc. You are fond of an argument, Theodorus, and now you
innocently fancy that I am a bag full of arguments, and can easily
pull one out which will prove the reverse of all this. But you do
not see that in reality none of these arguments come from me; they
all come from him who talks with me. I only know just enough to
extract them from the wisdom of another, and to receive them in a
spirit of fairness. And now I shall say nothing of myself, but shall
endeavor to elicit something from our friend.

Theod. Do as you say, Socrates ; that will be the best way.

Soc. Shall I tell you, Theodorus, what amazes me in your ac-
quaintance Protagoras?

Theod. What is that?

Soc. I say nothing against his doctrine, that what appears is to
each one, but I wonder that he did not begin his great work on Truth
with declaration that a pig or a dog-faced baboon, or some other
stranger monster which has sensation, is the measure of all things;
then, when we were reverencing him as a god, he might have con-
descended to inform us that he was no wiser than a tadpole, and did
not even aspire to be a man — would not this have produced an over-
powering effect? For if truth is only sensation, and one man's dis-
cernment is as goo'd as another's, and no man has any superior right
to determine whether the opinion of any other is true or false, but
each man, as we have several times repeated, is to himself the sole
judge, and everything that he judges is true and right, why should
Protagoras be preferred to the place of wisdom and instruction, and
deserve to be well paid, and we poor ignoramuses have to go to him,
if each one is the measure of his own wisdom? Must he not be
talking 'ad captandum' in all this? I say nothing of the ridiculous
predicament in which my own midwifery and the whole art of dialectic
is placed; for the attempt to supervise or refute the notions or
opinions of others would be a tedious and enormous piece of folly, if
to each man they are equally right; and this must be the case if
Protagoras' Truth is the real truth, and the philosopher is not merely
amusing himself by giving oracles out of the shrine of his book.

Theod. He was a friend of mine, Socrates, as you were saying,
and therefore I cannot have him refuted by my lips, nor can I oppose
you when I agree with you ; please, then, to take Theaetetus again ;
he seemed to answer you very nicely.

PLATO 213

Soc. If you were to go into a Lacedaemonian palestra, Theo-
dorus, would you have a right to look on at the naked wrestlers,
some of them making a poor figure, if you did not strip and give
them an opportunity of judging of your own form ?

Theod. Why not, Socrates, if they would allow me, as I think
you will, in consideration of my age and stiffness; let more supple
youth try a fall with you, and do not drag me into the gymnasium.

Soc. Your will is my will, Theodorus, as the proverbial philos-
ophers say, and therefore I will return to the sage Theaetetus. Tell
me, Theaetetus, in reference to what I was saying, are you not
amazed at finding yourself all of a sudden raised to the level of the
wisest of men, or indeed of the gods? — for you would assume the
measure of Protagoras to apply to the gods as well as men?

Theaet. Certainly I should, and I am amazed, as you say. At
first hearing, I was quite satisfied with the doctrine, that whatever
appears is to each one, but now the face of things has changed.

Soc. Why, my dear boy, you are young, and your ear is quickly
caught and your mind influenced by popular arguments. Protagoras,
or some one speaking on his behalf, will doubtless say in reply, —
Good people, young and old, you meet and harangue, and bring in
the gods, the question of whose existence or non-existence I banish
from writing or speech, or you talk about the reason of man being
degraded to the level of the brutes, which is a telling argument with
the multitude, but not one word of proof or demonstration do you
offer. All is probability with you, and yet surely you and Theodorous
had better reflect whether you are disposed to admit of probability
and figures of speech in matters of such importance. He or any
other geometrician who argued from probabilities and likelihoods in
geometry, would not be worth an ace.

Theaet. Neither you nor we, Socrates, would reckon that fair.

Soc. Then you and Theodorus mean to say that we must view
the matter in some other way?

Theaet. Yes, in quite another way.

Soc. And the way will be to ask whether sensation is or is not
the same as knowledge ; for this was the real point of our argument,
and with a view to this we raised (did we not?) those many strange
questions.

Theaet. Certainly.

Soc. Shall we say that we know all that which we see and hear ?
for example shall we say that not having learned, we do not know

214 PLATO

the language of foreigners when they speak to us? or shall we say
that hearing them, we also know what they are saying? or suppose
that we see letters which we do not understand, shall we say that
we do not see them? or shall we maintain that, seeing them, we
must know them?

Theaet. We shall say, Socrates, that we know that which we
actually see and hear of them — that is to say, we see and know the
figure and colour of the letters, and we hear and know the elevation
or depression of the sound of them ; but we do not perceive by sight
and hearing, or know, that which grammarians and interpreters teach
about them.

Soc. Capital, Theaetetus, I shall not dispute that, as I want
you to grow ; but there is another difficulty coming, which you will
also have to repulse.

Theaet. What is that?

Soc. Some one will say, — Can a man who has ever known any-
thing, and still has and preserves a memory of that which he knows,
not know that which he remembers at the time when he remembers ?
I have, I fear, a tedious way of putting a simple question, which is
only, whether a man who has learned, and remembers, can fail to
know?

Theaet. That, Socrates, would be impossible and absurd.

Soc. Am I dreaming, then? Think: is not seeing perceiving,
and is not sight perception?

Theaet. True.

Soc. And if our recent definition holds, every man knows that
which he has seen?

Theaet. Yes.

Soc. And you would admit that there is such a thing as memory ?

Theaet. Yes.

Soc. And is memory of something or of nothing?

Theaet. Of something, surely.

Soc. Of things learned and perceived, that is?

Theaet. Certainly.

Soc. Often a man remembers that which he has seen?

Theaet. True.

Soc. And if he closed his eyes, would he forget?

Theaet. That, Socrates, would indeed by an absurd thing to
affirm.

Soc. And yet that must be affirmed, if the previous argument

PLATO 215

is to be maintained.

Theaet. How is that? I am not quite sure that I see your
meaning, though I have a strong suspicion that you are right. Will
you explain how this is?

Soc. As thus: he who sees knows, as we say, that which he
sees ; for perception and sight and knowledge are supposed to be all
the same.

Theaet. Certainly.

Soc. But he who saw, and has knowledge of that which he saw,
remembers, when he closes his eyes, that which he no longer sees

Theaet. True.

Soc. And seeing is knowing, and therefore not seeing is not
knowing ?

Theaet. That is true.

Soc. Then the inference is, mat a man may have attained the
knowledge of something, which he may remember and yet not know,
because he does not see; and this has been affirmed by us to be an
absurdity.

Theaet. That is very true.

Soc. Thus, then, the assertion that knowledge and perception
are one, involves a manifest impossibility?

Theaet. Yes.

Soc. Then they must be distinguished?

Theaet. I suppose that they must.

Soc, Once more we shall have to begin, and ask 'What is know-
ledge?' and yet, Theaetetus, what are we going to do?

Theaet. About what?

Soc. After the manner of disputers, we drew inferences from
words, and were well pleased if in this way we could gain an advantage.
And, although professing not to be mere Eristics, but philosophers,
I suspect that we have unconsciously fallen into the error of that
ingenious class of persons.

Theaet. I do not as yet understand you.

Soc. Then I will try to explain myself : just now we asked the
question, whether a man who had learned and remembered could fail
to know, and we showed that a person who had seen might remember
when he had his eyes shut and could not see, and then he would at
the same time remember and not know. But this was an impossibility,
and so the Protagorean fable came to nought, and yours also, who
maintain that knowledge is the same as perception.

216 PLATO

Theaet. True.

Soc. And yet, my friend, I do not suppose that this would have
been the result if Protagoras, who was the father of the first of the
two brats, had been alive; he would have had a great deal to say
for himself. But he is dead, and we insult over his orphan child;
and even the guardians whom he left, and of whom Theodorus is
one, are unwilling to give any help, and therefore I suppose that I
must take up his cause myself, and see justice done.

Theod. Not I, Socrates, but rather Callias, the son of Hipponi-
cus, is guardian of his orphans, I was too soon diverted from the
abstractions of dialectic to geometry. NeverthelessI I shall be grate-
ful to you if you assist him.

Soc. Very good, Theodorus ; you shall see how I will come to
the rescue. If a person does not attend to the meaning of the terms
which are commonly used in argument, he may be involved even in
greater paradoxes than these. Shall I explain this to you or to Theae-
tetus ?

Theod. To both of us, and let the younger answer ; he will incur
less disgrace if he is discomforted.

Soc. Then now let me ask the awful question, which is this : —
Can a man know and also not know that which he knows?

Theod. How shall we answer that, Theaetetus?

Theaet. That appears to me to be impossible.

Soc. Quite possible, if you maintain that seeing is knowing.
When you are caught in a well, as they say, and the self-assured
adversary closes one of your eyes with his hand, and asks whether
you can see his cloak with the eye which he has closed, how will you
answer the inevitable man?

Theaet. I should answer, not with that eye but with the other.

Soc. Then you see and do not see the same thing at the same
time?

Theaet. Yes, in a certain sense.

Soc. I do not say anything about that, he will reply ; I do not
ask 'in what sense you know,' but only whether you know that which
you do not know. You have been proved to see that which you do
not see; and you have already admitted that seeing is knowing, and
that not seeing is not knowing: I leave you to draw the inference.

Theaet. Yes ; the inference is the contradictory of my assertion.

Soc. Yes, my marvel, and there may be yet worse things in store
for you : an opponent will ask whether you can have a sharp and also

PLATO 217

a dull knowledge, and whether you can know near, but not at a
distance, or know the same thing with more or less intensity, and
so on without end. When you took up the position, that sense is
knowledge, there was lying in wait a light-armed mercenary, who
argues for pay; he will dart from his ambush, and make his assault
upon hearing, smelling, and the other senses; — he will show you no
mercy ; and while you are wondering at his enviable wisdom, he will
have got you into his net, out of which you will not escape, until
you have come to an understanding about the sum which is to be
paid for your release. Well, you say, and how will Protagoras rein-
force his position? Shall I answer for him?

Theaet. By all means.

Soc. After touching on the points which I have mentioned in
defending him, he will close with us in disdain, and say : — The worthy
Socrates asked a little boy, whether the same man could remember
and not know the same thing, and the boy said no, because he was
frightened, and could not see what was coming, and then Socrates
made a fool of me. The truth is, O most incapable Socrates, that
when you ask questions about any assertion of mine, and the person
asked is found tripping, if he has answered as I should have answered,
then I am refuted, but if he answers what I should not have answered,
he is refuted and not I. For do you suppose that any one would
admit the memory of a feeling afterwards to be the same as the feeling
was at the time? Certainly not. Or that he would hesitate to
acknowledge that the same man may know and not know the same
thing at the same time? Or, if he is afraid of granting this, would
he grant that one who has become unlike was the same as before
he became unlike? Or would he admit that a man is one at all, and
not rather many and infinite, as the changes which take place in him?
I speak by the card in order to avoid entanglements of words. But
O, my good sir, he will say, come to the point in a more generous
spirit; and either show, if you can, that our sensations are not rela-
tive and individual, or, if you admit that they are individual, prove
that this does not involve the consequence that the appearance be-
comes, or, if you like to say, is, to the individual only. As to your
talk about pigs and baboons, you are yourself a pig, and you make
my writings the sport of other swine, which is not right. For I
declare that the truth is as I have written, and that each of us is a
measure of existence and of non-existence. Yet one man may be
a thousand times better than another in proportion as things are and

V 2-14

218 PLATO

appear different to him. And I am far from saying that wisdom
and the wise man have no existence ; but I say that the wise man is
he who makes the evils which appear and are to a man, into goods
which are and appear to him. And I would beg you not to press
my words in the letter, but to take the meaning of them as I will
explain them. Remember how I said before, that to the sick man
his food appears to be and is bitter, and to the man in health the
opposite of bitter. Now I cannot conceive that one of these men
can be or ought to be made wiser than the other ; nor can you assert
that the sick man because he has one impression is foolish, and the
healthy man because he has another is wise ; but the one state requires
to be changed into the other, the worse into the better. As in educa-
tion, a change of state has to be effected, and the sophist accomplishes
by words the change which the physician works by the aid of drugs.
Not that any one ever made another think truly, who previously
thought falsely. For no one can think what is not, or think anything
different from that which he feels, and which is always true. But as
the inferior habit of mind has thoughts of a kindred nature, so I
conceive that a good mind causes men to have good thoughts; and
these which the inexperienced call true, I maintain to be only better,
and not truer than others. And, O my dear Socrates, I do not call
wise men tadpoles ; far otherwise ; I say that they are the physicians
of the human body, and the husbandmen of plants — for the husband-
men also take away the evil and disordered sensations of plants, and
infuse into them good and healthy sensations as well as true ones;
and the wise and good rhetoricians make the good instead of the
evil, both in appearance and in reality. And the sophist who is able
to train his pupils in this spirit is a wise man, and deserves to be
well paid by them. And in this way one man is wiser than another ;
and yet no one thinks falsely, and you, whether you will or not, must
endure to be a measure. This is my argument, which you, Socrates,
may, if you please, overthrow by an opposite argument, or if you
like you may put questions to me, (no intelligent person will object
to the method of questions, — quite the reverse.) But I must beg
you to put fair questions : for there is great inconsistency in saying
that you have a zeal for virtue, and then always behaving unfairly
in argument. The unfairness of which I complain is that you never
distinguish between mere disputation and dialectic : the disputer may
trip up his opponent as often as he likes, and make fun; but the
dialectician will be in earnest, and only correct his adversary when

PLATO 219

necessary, telling him the errors into which he has fallen through
his own fault, or that of the company which he has previously kept.
If you do this, he will lay the blame of his own confusion and per-
plexity on himself, and not on you. He will follow and love you, and
will hate himself, and escape from himself into philosophy, in order
that he may become different and get rid of his former self. But
the other mode of arguing, which is practised by the many, will have
just the opposite effect upon him ; and as he grows older, instead
of turning philosopher, he will learn to hate philosophy. I would
recommend you, therefore, as I said before, not to encourage your-
self in this polemical and controversial temper, but to find out, in a
friendly and congenial spirit, what we really mean when we say that
all things are in motion, and that what appears is to individuals and
states. In this way you will see whether knowledge and sensation
are the same or different, but not by arguing, as you are doing, from
the customary use of names and words, which the vulgar pervert in all
manner of ways, causing infinite perplexity to one another. Such,
Theodorus, is the very slight help which I am able to offer to your
old friend; had he been living, he would have helped himself in a
far grander style .

Theod. You are jesting, Socrates ; indeed, your defense of him
has been most valorous.

Soc. Thank you, friend; and I hope that you observed Prota-
goras bidding us be serious, as the text, 'man is the measure of all
things,' was a solemn one ; and he reproached us with making a boy
the medium of discourse, and said that the boy's timidity was made
to tell against his argument, he also complained that we made a joke
of him.

Theod. Of course I observed that, Socrates.

Soc. Well, and shall we do as he says?

Theod. By all means.

Soc. But if his wishes are to be regarded, you and I must take
up his argument in good earnest, and ask and answer one another,
for you see that the rest of us are all boys. That is the only way in
which we can escape his imputation, that we are making fun of him,
and examining his thesis with boys.

Theod. Well, and is not Theaetetus better able to follow a philo-
sophical enquiry than a great many men who have long beards?

Soc. Yes, Theodorus, but not better than you ; and therefore
please not to imagine that you are to leave in my exclusive charge

220 PLATO

the care of your departed friend. At any rate, my good friend, do
not sheer off until we know whether you are the true measure of
diagrams, or whether all men are equally measures and sufficient for
themselves in astronomy and geometry, and other branches of know-
ledge in which you are supposed to excel them.

Theod. He who is your companion, Socrates, will not easily
avoid being drawn into an argument; and I am afraid that when I
said that you would excuse me, and not like the Lacedaemonians,
compel me to strip and fight, I said a stupid thing — I should rather
compare you to Scirrhon, who threw travellers from the rocks; for
the Lacedaemonian rule is, strip or depart,' but your method of pro-
ceeding is more after the fashion of Antaeus : you will not allow any
one who approaches you to depart until you have stripped him, and
he has tried a fall with you in argument.

Soc. I see, Theodorus, that you perfectly apprehend the nature
of my complaint; but I am even more pugnacious than the giants
of old, for I have met with no end of heroes ; many a Heracles,
many a Theseus, mighty in words, have broken my head; neverthe-
less I am always at this rough game, which inspires me like a passion.
Please, then, to indulge me with a trial, for your own edification as
well as mine.

Theod. I consent; lead me whither you will, for I know that
you are like destiny; nor can any man escape from any argument
which you may weave for him ; but I am not disposed to go further
than you suggest.

Soc. That will satisfy me; and now take particular care that
we do not again unwittingly expose ourselves to the reproach of talk-
ing childishly.

Theod. I will try to avoid that error, as far as I am able.

Soc. In the first place, let us return to our old objection, and
see whether we were right in blaming and taking offense at Pro-
tagoras on the ground that he assumed all to be equal and sufficient
in wisdom ; although he admitted that there was a better and worse,
and that in respect of this, some excelled others, and these, as he
said, were the wise.

Theod. That is true.

Soc. Then let us obtain from his own statement, in the fewest
words possible, the basis of agreement.

Theod. How will you do that?

Soc. In this way : — His words are, that, 'to whom a thing seems,

PLATO 221

that which seems is.

Theod. Yes, that is what he says.

Soc. And are not we, Protagoras, uttering the opinion of man,
or rather of all mankind, when we say that every man thinks himself
wiser than other men in some things, and their inferior in others?
And in the hour of danger, when they are in perils of war, or of the
sea, or of sickness, do they not look up to their commanders as
gods, and expect salvation from them, only because they excel them
in knowledge? Is not the world full of men in their several employ-
ments, who are looking for teachers and rulers of themselves and
of the animals? and there are plenty who think that they are able to
teach and able to rule. Now, in all this is implied that ignorance
and wisdom exist among them, at least in their own opinion.

Theod. Certainly.

Soc. And wisdom is assumed by them to be truth, and ignorance
falsehood ?

Theod. Exactly.

Soc. How then, Protagoras, would you have us treat the argu-
ment? Shall we say that men have always true opinions, or some-
times true and sometimes false opinions? In either case, the result
is that they have opinions which are not always true, but sometimes
true and sometimes false. For tell me, Theodorus, do you suppose
that any friend of Protagoras, or you yourself, would contend that
no one deems another ignorant or mistaken in his opinion?

Theod. The thing is incredible, Socrates.

Soc. And yet that absurdity is necessarily involved in the thesis,
that man is the measure of all things.

Theod. How is that?

Soc. Why, suppose that you determine in your own mind some-
thing to be true, and declare your opinion to me; let us assume, as
he says, that this is true to you. Now, may not the rest of us be
the judges of this opinion or judgment of yours, or do we think that
you have always a true opinion? Are there not thousands upon
thousands who, whenever you form a judgment, take up arms and
have an opposite judgment and opinion, deeming that you judge
falsely ?

Theod. Yes, indeed, Socrates, thousands and tens of thousands,
as Homer says, who give me a world of trouble.

Soc. And will you assert, in that case, that what you say is true
to you and false to the ten thousand others?

222 PLATO

Theod. That is the only inference.

Soc. And what is to be said of Protagoras himself? If neither
he nor the multitude thought, as indeed they do not think, that man
is the measure of all things, then the truth of which Protagoras
wrote would be true to no one. But if you suppose that he himself
thought this, and that the multitude does not agree with him, in the
first place you will have to allow that the degree in which his truth
is or is not true, depends upon the number of the suffrages.

Theod. That would follow if the truth is supposed to vary with
individual opinion.

Soc. And the best of the joke is, that he acknowledges the truth
of their opinion who believe his opinion to be false ; for in admitting
that the opinions of all men are true, in effect he grants that the
opinion of his opponents is true.
Theod. Certainly.

Soc. And does he not allow that his own opinion is false, if he
admits that the opinion of those who think him false is true?

Theod. That is inevitable.

Soc. But the other side do not admit that they speak falsely.

Theod. They do not.

Soc. And he, as may be inferred from his writings, agrees that
this opinion is also true.

Theod. Clearly.

Soc. Then all mankind, including Protagoras, will contend, or
rather, I should say that he will allow, when he concedes that his
adversary has a true opinion — Protagoras, I say, will himself allow
that neither dog nor any ordinary man is the measure of anything
which he has not learned — am I not right?

Theod. Yes.

Soc. And the truth of Protagoras being doubted by all, will be
true neither to himself nor to any one else?

Theod. I think, Socrates, that we are running my old friend too
hard.

Soc. But I do not know that we are going beyond the truth.
Doubtless, as he is older, he may be expected to be wiser than we
are. And if he could only just get his head out of the world below,
he would give both of us a sound basting — me for quibbling, and
you for accepting my quibbles, and be off and underground again
in a twinkling. But as he is not within call, we must make the
best use of our own faculties, such as they are, and say honestly

PLATO 223

what we think ; and one thing which every man thinks is, that there
are great differences in the understanding of men.

Theod. In that opinion I quite agree.

Soc. And is there not most likely to be firm ground in that dis-
tinction which we drew on behalf of Protagoras, viz. that immediate
sensations, such as hot, dry, sweet, are in general only such as they
appear, but that if judgments are allowed to differ at all, this certainty
of sensation cannot be extended to the knowledge of health or disease,
which every woman, child, or living creature is by no means able to
cure, neither have they any perception of what is wholesome for
themselves ; and that in this, if in anything, the difference in different
men will appear?

Theod. I quite agree in that.

Soc. Again, in politics, while affirming that right and wrong,
honourable and disgraceful, holy and unholy, are in reality to each
state such as the state thinks and makes lawful, and that in deter-
mining these matters no individual or state is wiser than another,
still the followers of Protagoras will not deny that in determining
the sphere of expediency one counsellor is better than another, and
one state wiser than another ; they will scarcely venture to maintain,
that what a city deems expedient will always be really expedient.
But in the other case, I mean when they speak of justice and injustice,
piety and impiety, they are confident that these have no natural or
essential basis — the truth is that which is agreed on at the time of
the agreement, and as long as the agreement lasts ; and this is the
philosophy of many who do not altogether go along with Protagoras.
Here is a new question offering, Theodorus, which is likely to be
still longer than the last.

Theod. Well, Socrates, we have plenty of leisure.

Soc. That is true, and your remark recalls to my mind an
observation which I have often made, that those who have passed
their days in the pursuit of philosophy are ridiculously at fault when
they have to appear and plead in court. How natural is this!

Theod. What do you mean?

Soc. I mean to say, that those who from their youth upwards
have been knocking about in the courts and such like places, com-
pared with those who have received a philosophical education, are
.slaves, and the others are freemen.

Theod. In what is the difference seen?

Soc. In the leisure of which you were speaking, and which a

224 PLATO

freeman can always command ; he has his talk out in peace, and, like
ourselves, wanders at will from one subject to another, and from a
second to a third, if his fancy prefers a new one, caring not whether
his words are many or few; his only aim is to attain the truth.
But the lawyer is always in a hurry ; there is the water of the clepsydra
driving him on, and not allowing him to expatiate at will ; and there
is his adversary standing over him, enforcing his rights ; the affidavit,
which in their phraseology is termed the brief, is recited; and from
this he must not deviate. He is a servant, and is disputing about a
fellow-servant before his master, who is seated, and has the cause in
his hands; the trial is never about some indifferent matter, but
always concerns himself; and often he has to run for his life. The
consequence has been, that he has become keen and shrewd ; he has
learned how to flatter his master in word and indulge him in deed;
but his soul is small and unrighteous. His slavish condition has
deprived him of growth and uprightness and independence ; dangers
and fears, which were too much for his truth and honesty, came
upon him in early years, when the tenderness of youth was unequal
to them, and he has been driven into crooked ways ; from the first
he has practised deception and retaliation, and has become stunted
and warped. And so he has passed out of youth into manhood,
having no soundness in him; and is now, as he thinks, a master in
wisdom. Such is the lawyer, Theodorus. Will you have the com-
panion picture of the philosopher, who is of our brotherhood ; or
shall we return to the argument? Do not let us abuse the freedom
of digression which we claim.

Theod. Nay, Socrates, let us finish what we were about; for
you truly said that we belong to a brotherhood which is free, and
are not the servants of the argument ; but the argument is our servant,
and must wait our leisure. Where is the judge or spectator who
has a right to censure or control us, as he might the poets?

Soc. Then, as this is your wish, I will describe the leaders ; for
there is no use in talking about the inferior sort. In the first place,
the lords of philosophy have never, from their youth upwards, known
their way to the Agora, or the dicastery, or the council, or any other
political assembly; they neither see nor hear the laws or votes of
the state written or spoken; the eagerness of political societies in
the attainment of offices — clubs, and banquets, and revels, and
singing-maidens, do not enter even into their dreams. Whether any
event has turned out well or ill in the city, what disgrace may have

PLATO 225

descended to any one from his ancestors, male or female, are matters
of which the philosopher no more knows than he can tell, as they
say, how many pints are contained in the ocean. Neither is he
conscious of his ignorance. For he does not hold aloof in order
that he may gain a reputation ; but the truth is, that the outer form
of him only is in the city; his mind, disdaining the littlenesses and
nothingnesses of human things, is 'flying all abroad,' as Pindar says,
measuring with line and rule the things which are under and on the
earth and above the heaven, interrogating the whole nature of each
and all, but not condescending to anything which is within reach.

Theod. What do you mean, Socrates?

Soc. I will illustrate my meaning, Theodorus, by the jest which
the clever, witty Thracian handmaid made about Thales, when he
fell into a well as he was looking up at the stars. She said, that he
was so eager to know what was going on in heaven, that he could
not see what was before his feet. This is a jest which is equally
applicable to all philosophers. For the philosopher is wholly unac-
quainted with his next door neighbour; he is ignorant, not only of
what he is doing, but whether he is or is not a human creature ; he
is searching into the essence of man, and is unwearied in discovering
what belongs to such a nature to do or suffer different from any
other; — I think that you understand me, Theodorus?

Theod. I do, and what you say is true.

Soc. And thus, my friend, on every occasion, private as well as
public, as I said at first, when he appears in a law-court, or in any
place in which he has to speak of things which are at his feet and
before his eyes, he is the jest, not only of Thracian handmaids but
of the general herd, tumbling into wells and every sort of disaster
through his inexperience. He looks such an awkward creature, and
conveys the impression that he is stupid. When he is reviled, he has
nothing personal to say in answer to the civilities of his adversaries,
for he knows no scandals of any one, and they do not interest him ;
and therefore he is laughed at for his sheepishness ; and when others
are being praised and glorified, he cannot help laughing very sincerely
in the simplicity of his heart; and this again makes him look like a
fool. When he hears a tyrant or king eulogized, he fancies that he
is listening to the praises of some keeper of cattle — a swineherd,
or shepherd, or cowherd, who is being praised for the quantity of
milk which he squeezes from them ; and he remarks that the creature
whom they tend, and out of whom they squeeze the wealth, is of a

226 PLATO

less tractable and more insidious nature. Then, again, he observes
that the great man is of necessity as ill-mannered and uneducated
as any shepherd — for he has no leisure, and he is surrounded by a
wall, which is his mountain-pen. Hearing of enormous landed pro-
prietors of ten thousand acres and more, our philosopher deems this
to be a trifle, because he has been accustomed to think of the whole
earth; and when they sing the praises of family, and say that some
one is a gentleman because he has had seven generations of wealthy
ancestors, he thinks that their sentiments only betray the dulness and
narrowness of vision of those who utter them, and who are not
educated enough to look at the whole, nor to consider that every
man has had thousands and thousands of progenitors, and among
them have been rich and poor, kings and slaves, Hellenes and bar-
barians, many times over. And when some one boasts of a catalogue
of twenty-five ancestors, and goes back to Heracles, the son of Am-
phitryon, he cannot understand his poverty of ideas. Why is he
unable to calculate that Amphitryon had a twenty-fifth ancestor, who
might have been anybody, and was such as fortune made him, and
he had a fiftieth, and so on? He is amused at the notion that he
cannot do a sum, and thinks that a little arithmetic would have got
rid of his senseless vanity. Now, in all these cases our philosopher
is derided by the -vulgar, partly because he is above them, and also
because he is ignorant of what is before him, and always at a loss.

Theod. That is very true, Socrates.

Soc. But, O my friend, when he draws the other into upper air,
and gets him out of his pleas and rejoinders into the contemplation
of justice and injustice in their own nature and in their difference from
one another and from all other things; or from the commonplaces
about the happiness of kings to the consideration of government, and
of human happiness and misery in general — what they are, and how
a man should seek after the one and avoid the other — when that nar-
row, keen, little legal mind is called to account about all this, he gives
the philosopher his revenge ; for dizzied by the height at which he is
hanging, and from which he looks into space, which is a strange ex-
perience to him, he being dismayed, and lost, and stammering out
broken words, is laughed at, not by Thracian handmaidens or any
other uneducated persons, for they have no eye for the situation, but
by every man who has not been brought up as a slave. Such are the
two characters, Theodorus : the one of the philosopher or gentleman,
who may be excused for appearing simple and useless when he has to

PLATO 2*7

perform some menial office, such as packing up a bag, or flavouring a
sauce or fawning speech ; the other, of the man who is able to do every
kind of service smartly and neatly, but knows not how to wear his
cloak like a gentleman ; still less does he acquire the music of speech,
or hymn the true life which is lived by immortals or men blessed of
heaven.

Theod. If you could only persuade everybody, Socrates, as you
do me, of the truth of your words, there would be more peace and
fewer evils among men.

Soc. Evils, Theodorus, can never perish ; for there must always
remain something which is antagonistic to good. Of necessity, they
hover around this mortal sphere and the earthly nature, having no
place among the gods in heaven. Wherefore, also, we ought to fly
away thither, and to fly thither is to become like God, as far as this
is possible; and to become like him, is to become holy and just and
wise. But, O my friend, you cannot easily convince mankind that
they should pursue virtue or avoid vice, not for the reasons which
the many give, in order, forsooth, that a man may seem to be good ; —
this is what they are always repeating, and this, in my judgment, is
an old wives' fable. Let them hear the truth : In God is no unright-
eousness at all — he is altogether righteous ; and there is nothing more
like him than he of us, who is the most righteous. And the true wis-
dom of men, and their nothingness and cowardice, are nearly con-
cerned with this. For to know this is true wisdom and manhood, and
the ignorance of this is too plainly folly and vice. All other kinds of
wisdom or cunning, which seem only, such as the wisdom of politic-
ians, or the wisdom of the arts, are coarse and vulgar. The unright-
eous man, or the sayer and doer of unholy things, had far better not
yield to the illusion that his roguery is cleverness ; for men glory in
their shame — they fancy that they hear others saying of them, 'these
are not mere good-for-nothing persons, burdens of the earth, but such
as men should be who mean to dwell safely in a state.' Let us tell
them that they are all the more truly what they do not know that they
are; for they do not know the penalty of injustice, which above all
things they ought to know — not stripes and death, as they suppose,
which evil-doers often escape, but a penalty which cannot be escaped.

Theod. What is that?

Soc. There are two patterns set before them in nature : the one,
blessed and divine, the other godless and wretched ; and they do not
see, in their utter folly and infatuation, that they are growing like the

228 PLATO

one and unlike the other, by reason of their evil deeds ; and the pen-
alty is, that they lead a life answering to the pattern which they re-
semble. And if we tell them, that unless they depart from their cun-
ning, the place of innocence will not receive them after death; and
that here on earth, they will live ever in the likeness of their own evil
selves, and with evil friends — when they hear this they in their su-
perior cunning will seem to be listening to fools.

Theod. Very true, Socrates.

Soc. Too true, my friend, as I well know ; there is, however, one
peculiarity in their case : when they begin to reason in private about
their dislike of philosophy, if they have the courage to hear the argu-
ment out, and do not run away, they grow at last strangely discon-
tented with themselves ; their rhetoric fades away, and they seem to
be no better than children. These, however, are digressions from
which we must now desist, or they will overflow, and drown our orig-
inal argument ; to which, if you please, we will now return.

Theod. For my part, Socrates, I would rather have the digres-
sions, for at my age I find them easier to follow ; but if you wish, let
us go back to the argument.

Soc. Had we not reached the point at which, as we were saying,
the partisans of the perpetual flux, and of the identity of being and
appearance, were confidently maintaining that the ordinances which
the state commanded and thought just, were just to the state which
imposed them, while they were in force ; this was especially asserted
of justice ; but as to the good, no one had ever yet had the hardihood
to contend that the ordinances which the state thought and enacted
to be good, were really good while they lasted; — he who said this,
would only be playing with the name 'good,' and would not really
touch our question?

Theod. True.

Soc. Then I would not have him speak of the name, but of the
thing which is intended by the name.

Theod. Very true.

Soc. Whatever name he gives to the thing, he would allow that
the good or expedient is the aim of legislation, and that the state as
far as possible imposes all laws with a view to the greatest expediency ;
can legislation have any other aim ?

Theod. Certainly not.

Soc. But is the aim attained always? may not mistakes often
occur ?

PLATO 229

Theod. Yes, I think that there are mistakes.

Soc. The possibility of error will be more distinctly recognized,
if we put the question in reference to the whole class under which the
good or expedient falls. That whole class has to do with the future,
and laws are passed under the idea that they will be useful in after
time; which, in other words, is the future.

Theod. Very true.

Soc. Suppose now, that we ask Protagoras, or one of his dis-
ciples, a question : — O, Protagoras, we will say to him, Man, as you
declare, is the measure of all things — white, heavy, light: there is
nothing of this sort of which he is not the judge; for he has the
criterion of them in himself, and when he thinks what he feels, he
thinks what is, and is true to himself. Is not that what they say?

Theod. Yes.

Soc. And do you extend your doctrine, Protagoras (as we
should proceed to say to him) to the future as well as to the present ;
and has he the criterion not only of what is but of what will be, and
does this always happen to him, as he expected? For example, take
the case of heat: — When a private person thinks that he is going to
have a fever, and that this kind of heat is coming on, and another
person, who is a physician, thinks the contrary, whose opinion is
likely to prove right? Or are they both right? — he will have a heat
or fever in his own judgment, and not a fever in the physician's judg-
ment?

Theod. That would be ludicrous.

Soc. And the vinegrower, if I am not mistaken, is likely to be
a better prophet of the sweetness or dryness of the vintage which is
not yet gathered than the musician?

Theod. Certainly.

Soc. And the musician will be a better judge than the gymnas-
tic-master of the excellence of the music, which the gymnastic-master
will himself approve, when he hears the performance?

Theod. Of course.

Soc. And the cook will be a better judge than the guest, who is
not a cook, of the pleasure to be derived from the dinner which is in
preparation ; for of present or past pleasure we are not now arguing,
but of the pleasure which will be and seem to be to each of us in the
future; and the question is, who will be the best judge of that;
would not you yourself, Protagoras, be a better judge of the topics
which are likely to produce an effect upon us in a court than any

230 PLATO

private individual?

Theod. Certainly, Socrates, he used to profess in the strongest
manner that he was the superior of all men in this respect.

Soc. To be sure, friend; for who would have paid a large sum
for the privilege of talking to him, if he had really persuaded his
visitors that no one, whether prophet or any other, was better able
to judge the true or probable event in the future than every man
could for himself?

Theod. That is most certain.

Soc. And legislation and expediency are all concerned with the
future; and every one will admit that states, in passing laws, must
often fail of their highest interests?

Theod. Quite true.

Soc. Then we may fairly argue against your master, that he
must admit one man to be wiser than another, and that the wiser is
a measure ; but I, who know nothing, am not at all obliged to accept
the honour which the advocate of Protagoras was just now forcing
upon me, whether I would or not, of being a measure of anything.

Theod. That is the way, Socrates, in which his theory is best
refuted ; although he is also caught in the authority which he assigns
to the opinions of others, who palpably give the lie to his own doctrines.

Soc. There are many ways, Theodorus, in which the doctrine
that the opinion of every man is true may be refuted; but there is
more difficulty in proving that momentary states of feeling, out of
which arise sensations and opinions in accordance with them, are also
untrue. I may, however, be mistaken, and perhaps they are really
unassailable, and those who say that there is evidence of them, and
that they are matters of knowledge, may probably be right ; in which
case our friend Theaetetus has not been far from the mark in iden-
tifying perception and knowledge. Here, then, let us approach
nearer, as the advocate of Protagoras desires, and give the truth of
the universal flux a ring: is the theory sound or not? at any rate, no
small war is raging about this way, and there are many combatants.

Theod. No small war, indeed, for in Ionia the sect makes rapid
strides ; the disciples of Heracleitus are most energetic upholders of
the doctrine.

Soc. Then we are the more bound, my dear Theodorus, to ex-
amine the question from the beginning as set forth by themselves.

Theod. Certainly we are. About these speculations of Hera-
cleitus, which, as you say, are as old as Homer, or even older still,

PLATO 231

the Ephesians themselves, who profess to know them, are downright
mad, and you cannot talk with them about them. For, in accord-
ance with their text-books, they are always in motion; but as for
dwelling upon an argument or a question, and quietly asking and
answering in turn, they are absolutely without the power of doing
this; or rather, they have no particle of rest in them, and they are
in a state of negation of rest which no words can express. If you
ask any of them a question, he will produce, as from a quiver, say-
ings brief and dark, and shoot them at you; and if you enquire the
reason of what he has said, you will be hit by some other newfangled
word, and will make no way with any of them, nor they with one
another; for their great care is, not to allow of any settled principle
either in their arguments or in their minds, conceiving, as I imagine,
that this would be stationary; and they are at war with the station-
ary, which they would like, if they could, to banish utterly.

Soc. I suppose, Theodorus, that you have only seen them when
they were fighting, and have never stayed with them in time of peace,
for they are no friends of yours ; and their peace doctrines are only
communicated by them at leisure, as I imagine, to those disciples of
theirs whom they want to make like themselves.

Theod. Disciples ! my good sir, they have none ; men of this
sort are not one another's disciples, but they grow up anyhow, and
get their inspiration anywhere, each of them saying of his neighbour
that he knows nothing. From these men, then, as I was going to
remark, you will never get a reason, whether with their will or with-
out their will ; we must take the question out of their hands, and
make the analysis ourselves, as if we were doing a geometrical prob-
lem.

Soc. That is very true ; but as touching the said problem, have
we not heard from the ancients, who concealed their wisdom from
the many in poetical figures, that Oceanus and Tethys, the origin of
all things, are streams, and that nothing is at rest; and now the
moderns, in their superior wisdom, have declared the same openly,
that the cobbler too may hear and learn of them, and no longer fool-
ishly imagine that some things are at rest and others in motion —
having learned that all is motion, he will duly honour his teachers?
I had almost forgotten the opposite doctrine, Theodorus,

'That is alone unmoved which is named the universe.'
This is the language of Parmenides, Melissus, and their followers,
who stoutly maintain that all being is one and self-contained, and has

232 PLATO

no place in which to move. What shall we say, friend, to all these
people; for, advancing step by step, we have imperceptibly got be-
tween the combatants, and, unless we can protect our retreat, we shall
pay the penalty of our rashness — like the players in the palaestra who
are caught upon the line, and are dragged different ways by the two
parties. Therefore I think that we had better begin by considering
those whom we first accosted, 'the river-gods,' and, if we find any
truth in them, we will pull ourselves over to their side, and try to get
away from the others. But if the partisans of 'the whole' appear to
speak more truly, we will fly off from the party which would move
the immovable to them. And if we find that neither of them have
anything reasonable to say, we shall be in a ridiculous position, having
ourselves to assert our own poor opinion and reject that of ancient and
famous men. O Theodorus, do you think that there is any use in
proceeding when there is such a risk?

Theod. Nay, Socrates, not to examine thoroughly what the two
parties have to say would be quite intolerable.

Soc. Then examine we must, if you will insist. The first ques-
tion which, I fancy, has to be determined, is about motion. How do
they conceive this when they say that all things are in motion? Do
they mean that there is only one, or, as I incline to think, that there
are two kinds of motion? I should like to have your opinion upon
the point, that I may err, if I am to err, in your company; tell me,
then, when a thing changes from one place to another, or goes round
in the same place, is not that motion?

Theod. Yes.

Soc. And this may be assumed to be one kind of motion. But
when a thing grows old, or becomes black from being white, or hard
from being soft, or undergoes any other change, while remaining in
the same place, may not that be properly described as motion of an-
other kind?

Theod. That is my view.

Soc. Which is certainly the true view. I say, then, that there
are these two kinds of motion, 'change,' and 'motion in place.'

Theod. You are right.

Soc. And now, having made this distinction, let us address our-
selves to those who say that all is motion, and ask them whether all
things according to them have the two kinds of motion, and are
changed as well as move in place, or is one thing moved in both ways,
and another only in one way?

PLATO 233

Theod. Indeed, I do not know what to answer ^ but I think that
they would say 'in both ways only.'

Soc. Yes, my friend ; for, if not, then manifestly the same things
would be in motion and at rest, and there would be no more truth in
saying that all things are in motion, than that all things are at rest.

Theod. You speak most truly.

Soc. And if they are to be in motion, and nothing is to be devoid
of motion, they must suppose that all things have always every sort
of motion?

Theod. Most true.

Soc. Consider this further point: did we not understand them
to explain the generation of heat, whiteness, or anything else, in some
such manner as this : — were they not saying that each of them is mov-
ing between the agent and the patient, together with a perception, and
the patient then becomes percipient but not perception, and the agent
a quale but not a quality? I suspect that quality may appear a strange
term to you, and that you do not understand the word when thus
generalized. Then I will take particular cases: I mean to say that
the producing power or agent becomes neither heat nor whiteness, but
hot and white, and the like of other things. For I must repeat what I
said before, that neither the agent nor patient have any absolute exist-
ence, but as they come together and generate sensations and objects
of sense, the one becomes of a certain quality, and the other is per-
cipient. You remember this?

Theod. Of course.

Soc. We may leave the rest of their theory unexamined, but we
must not forget to ask them the only question with which we are con-
cerned : Are all things in motion and flux ? Is that what you say ?

Theod. Yes, they will reply.

Soc. And they are moved in both those ways which we distin-
guished; that is to say, they move and are also changed?

Theod. Of course, if the motion is to be perfect.

Soc. If they only moved, and were not changed, we should be
able to say what are the kinds of things which are in motion and flux ?

Theod. Exactly.

Soc. But now, since not even white continues to flow white, and
the very whiteness is a flux or change which is passing into another
colour, and will not remain white, can the name of any colour be
rightly applied to anything?

Theod. That is impossible, Socrates, either in the case of this or

V 2-15

234 PLATO

of any other quality — if while we are using the word the object is
escaping in the flux.

Soc. And what would you say of perceptions, such as sight and
hearing, or any other kind of perception? Is there any stopping in
the act of seeing and hearing?

Theod. That is not to be supposed, if all things are in motion.

Soc. Then we must not speak of seeing any more than of not
seeing, nor of any perception more than of any non-perception, if all
things have every kind of motion?

Theod. Certainly not.

Soc. Yet science is perception, as Theaetetus and I were saying.

Theod. That was said.

Soc. Then when we were asked what is knowledge, we no more
answered what is knowledge than what is not knowledge?

Theod. That would seem to be the truth.

Soc. Here, then, is a fine result : we corrected our first answer
in our eagerness to prove that nothing is at rest. But if nothing is
at rest, every answer upon whatever subject is equally right : you may
say that a thing is or is not this ; or, if you prefer, 'becomes' this ; and
if we say 'becomes,' we shall not then hamper them with words ex-
pressive of rest.

Theod. You are quite right.

Soc. Yes, Theodorus, except in saying 'this' and 'not this/ But
you ought not to use the word 'this' or 'not this,' for there is no motion
in 'this' or 'not this ;' the maintainers of the doctrine have as yet no
words to express themselves, and must get a new language. I know
of no word that will suit them, except, perhaps, 'in no way,' which is
perfectly indefinite.

Theod. Yes, that manner of speaking is certainly true to their
character.

Soc. And so, Theodorus, we have got rid of your friend, and
have not yet assented to his doctrine, that every man is the measure
of all things — he must be a wise man who is a measure ; neither can
we allow that knowledge is perception, certainly not on the hypothe-
sis of a perpetual flux, unless our friend Theatetus is able to convince
us.

Theod. Very good, Socrates ; and now that the argument about
the doctrine of Protagoras has been completed, I am absolved from
answering, according to the agreement.

Theaet. Not, Theodorus, until you and Socrates have discussed

PLATO 235

the doctrine of those who say that all things are at rest, as you were
proposing.

Theod. You, Theaetetus, who are a young rogue, must not in-
stigate your elders to a breach of faith, but prepare yourself to answer
Socrates in the remainder of the argument.

Theaet. Yes, if he wishes ; but I would rather have heard about
the doctrine of rest.

Theod. Invite Socrates to an argument — invite horsemen to the
open plain ; do but ask him, and he will answer.

Soc. Nevertheless, Theodorus, I am afraid that I shall not be
able to comply with the request of Theaetetus.

Theod. Not comply! for what reason?

Soc. My reason is that I have a kind of reverence ; not so much
for Melissus and the others, who say that 'all is one and at rest/ as
for the great leader himself, Parmenides, venerable and awful, as in
Homeric language he may be called; — him I should be ashamed to
approach in a spirit unworthy of him. I met him when he was an
old man, and I was a mere youth, and he appeared to me to have a
glorious depth of mind. And I am afraid that we may not understand
his language, and may fall short even more of his meaning; and I
fear above all that the- nature of knowledge, which is the main subject
of our discussion, may be thrust out of sight by the unbidden guests
who will come pouring in upon us, if they are permitted — besides,
the question which we are now stirring is of immense extent, and will
be treated unfairly if only considered by the way ; or if treated ade-
quately and at length, will put into the shade the question of science.
But neither of these things ought to be allowed, and I must, if I can,
by the midwives' art, try to deliver Theaetetus of his conceptions about
knowledge.

Theaet. Very well ; if you think that, do as you say.

Soc. Once more, Theaetetus, I will ask you to consider the orig-
inal question : you were saying, were you not, that perception is know-
ledge ?

Theaet. I was.

Soc. And if any one were to ask you : With what does a man
see black and white colours? and with what does he hear sharp and
flat sounds ? — you would say, if I am not mistaken, 'With the eyes and
with the ears.'

Theaet. I should.

Soc. The free use of words and phrases, rather than minute pre-

2oG PLATO

cision, is generally characteristic of a liberal education, and the oppo-
site is pedantic; but sometimes this precision is necessary, and I be-
lieve that the answer which you have just given is open to the charge
of incorrectness ; for which is more correct, to say that we see or hear
with the eyes and with the ears, or through the eyes and through the
ears?

Theaet. I should say, Socrates, 'through/ rather than 'with.'

Soc. Yes, my boy; for no one can suppose that we are Trojan
horses, in whom are perched several unconnected senses, not meeting
in some one nature, of which they are the instruments, whether you
term this soul or not, with which through these we perceive objects
of sense.

Theaet. I agree with you in thinking that.

Soc. The reason why I am thus precise is, because I want to
know whether we perceive black and white through the eyes indeed,
but with one and the same part of ourselves, and again, other qualities
through other organs, or whether, if asked the question, you would
refer all such perceptions to the body. Perhaps, however, I had better
allow you to answer for yourself. Tell me, then, are not the organs
through which you perceive warm and hard and light and sweet,
organs of the body ?

Theaet. Of the body, certainly.

Soc. And you would admit that what you perceive through one
faculty you cannot perceive through another ; the objects of hearing,
for example, cannot be perceived through sight, or the objects of sight
through hearing?

Theaet. Of course I shall admit that.

Soc. If you have any thought about both of them, this common
perception cannot come to you, either through the one or the other
organ ?

Theaet. It cannot.

Soc. How about sounds and colours: in the first place, you
would admit that they both exist?

Theaet. Yes.

Soc. And that either of them is different from the other, and the
same with itself?

Theaet. Certainly.

Soc. And that both are two, and each of them is one ?

Theaet. Yes.

Soc. You can further observe whether they are like or unlike

PLATO 237

one another?

Theaet. I dare say.

Soc. But through what do you perceive all this about them ? for
you cannot apprehend, either through hearing or through seeing, that
which they have in common. Let me give an illustration : — if I were
to ask whether sounds and colours are saline or not (supposing that
there were any meaning in such a question), you would be able to tell
me what faculty would determine that — not sight nor hearing, as is
evident, but something else?

Theaet. Certainly ; the faculty of taste.

Soc. Very good ; and what power or instrument will determine
the general notions which are common, not only to the senses but to
all things, and which you call being and not being, and the rest of
them, about which I was just now asking — what organs will you as-
sign for the perception of these ?

Theaet. You are speaking of being and not being, likeness and
unlikeness, sameness and difference, and also of unity and other
numbers applied to objects of sense ; and you mean to ask, through
what bodily organ the soul perceives odd and even numbers and other
arithmetical notions :

Soc. You follow me excellently, Theaetetus; that is precisely
what I am asking.

Theaet. Indeed, Socrates, I cannot answer; my only notion is,
that they have no separate organ, but that the soul perceives the uni-
versals of all things by herself.

Soc. You are a beauty, Theaetetus, and not ugly, as Theodorus
was saying; for he who utters the beautiful is himself beautiful and
good. And besides being beautiful, you have done well in releasing
me from a very long discussion, if you are clear that the soul views
some things by herself and others through the bodily organs. For
that was my own opinion, and I wanted you to agree with me.

Theaet. And that is manifest.

Soc. And to which class would you refer being or essence ; for
this, of all our notions, is the most universal ?

Theaet. I should say, to that class which the soul seeks of herself.

Soc. And would you say this also of like and unlike, some and
other ?

Theaet. Yes.

Soc. And would you say the same of the noble and base, and of
good and evil?

J38 PLATO

Theaet. Those, as I conceive, are notions whose essences, above
all others, the soul contemplates in their relations to one another, com-
paring with herself things past and present with the future.

Soc. And does she not perceive the hardness of that which is
hard by the touch, and the softness of that which is soft equally by the
touch ?

Theaet. Yes.

Soc. But their existence and what they are, and their opposition
to one another, and the essential nature of this opposition, the soul
herself endeavours to decide for us; reviewing them and comparing
them with one another ?

Theaet. Certainly.

Soc. The simple sensations which reach the soul through the
body, are given at birth to men and animals by nature, but their re-
flections on these and on their relations to being and use, are slowly
and hardly gained, if they are .ever, gained, by education and long ex-
perience.

Thaet. Assuredly.

Soc. And can a man attain truth who fails of attaining being?

Theaet. Impossible.

Soc. And can he who misses the truth of anything, have a know-
ledge of that thing?

Theaet. He cannot.

Soc. Then knowledge does not consist in impressions of sense,
but in reasoning about them ; in that only, and not in the mere im-
pression, truth and being can be attained?

Theaet. Clearly.

Soc. And would you call the two processes by the same name,
when there is so great a difference between them?

Theaet. That will not be right.

Soc. And what name would you give to seeing, hearing, smell-
ing, being cold and being hot ?

Theaet. I should call all that perceiving — what other name could
be given them?

Soc. Perception would be the collective name of them ?

Theaet. Certainly.

Soc. Which, as we say, has no part in the attainment of truth
any more than of being?

Theaet. Certainly not.

Soc. And therefore cannot have any part in science or know-

PLATO 233

ledge ?

Theaet. No.

Soc. Then perception, Theaetetus, can never be the &ame as
knowledge or science?

Theaet. That is evident, Socrates ; and knowledge is now most
clearly proved to be different from perception.

Soc. But the original aim of our discussion was to find out
rather what knowledge is than what it is not; at the same time we
have made some progress, for we no longer seek for knowledge in
perception at all, but in that other process, however called, in which
the mind is alone and engaged with being.

THE DOCTRINE OF IDEAS

PARMENIDES

PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE

SOCRATES ZENO

PARMENIDES ARISTOTELES

ANTIPHON NARRATES THE DIALOGUE PROPER

WE WENT from our home at Clazomenae to Athens, and met Adei»
mantus and Glaucon in the Agora. Welcome, said Adeimantue, taking
me by the hand ; is there anything which we can do for you in Athens ?

Why, yes, I said, I am come to ask a favour of you.

What is that? he said.

I want you to tell me the name of your half-brother, which I have
forgotten; he was a mere child when I last came hither from Clazo-
menae, but that was a long time ago : your father's name, if I remember
rightly, is Pyrilampes?

Yes, he said, and the name of our brother, Antiphon ; but why do
you ask ?

Let me introduce some countrymen of mine, I said ; they are lovers
of philosophy, and have heard that Antiphon was in the habit of meet-
ing Pythodorus, the friend of Zeno, and remembers certain arguments
which Socrates and Zeno and Parmenides had together, and which
Pythodorus had often repeated to him.

240 PLATO

That is true.

And could we hear them ? I asked.

Nothing easier, he replied ; when he was a youth he made a careful
study of the pieces ; at present his thoughts run in another direction ;
like his grandfather, Antiphon, he is devoted to horses. But, if that
is what you want, let us go and look for him; he dwells at Melita.
which is quite near, and he has only just left us to go home.

Accordingly we went to look for him ; he was at home, and in the
act of giving a bridle to a blacksmith to be fitted. When he had done
with the blacksmith, his brothers told him the purpose of our visit ; and
he saluted me as an acquaintance whom he remembered from my former
visit, and we asked him to repeat the dialogue. At first he was not
very willing, and complained of the trouble, but at length he consented.
He told us that Pythodorous had described to him the appearance of
Parmenides and Zeno; they came to Athens, he said, at the great
Panathenaea ; the former was, at the time of his visit, about 65 years
old, very white with age, but well favoured. Zeno was nearly 40 years
of age, of a noble figure and fair aspect ; and in the days of his youth
he was reported to have been beloved of Parmenides. He said that
they lodged with Pythodorous in the Ceramicus, outside the wall,
whither Socrates and others came to see them; they wanted to hear
some writings of Zeno, which had been brought to Athens by them for
the first time. He said that Socrates was then very young, and that
Zeno read them to him in the absence of Parmenides, and had nearly
finished when Pythodorous entered, and with him Parmenides and Aris-
toteles who was afterwards one of the Thirty ; there was not much more
to hear, and Pythodorus had heard Zeno repeat them before.

When the recitation was completed, Socrates requested that the
first hypothesis of the first discourse might be read over again, and this
having been done, he said : What do you mean, Zeno ? Is your argu-
ment that the existence of many necessarily involves like and unlike,
and that this is impossible, for neither can the like be unlike, nor the
unlike like ; is that your position ? Just that, said Zeno. And if the
unlike cannot be like, or the like unlike, then neither can the many exist,
for that would involve an impossibility. Is the design of your argu-
ment throughout to disprove the existence of the many ? and is each of
your treatises intended to furnish a separate proof of this, there being
as many proofs in all as you have composed arguments, of the non-exist-
ence of the many ? Is that your meaning, or have I misunderstood you ?

PLATO 241

No, said Zeno ; you have quite understood the general drift of the
treatise.

I see, Parmenides, said Socrates, that Zeno is your second self in
his writings too ; he puts what you say in another way, and half deceives
us into believing that he is saying what is new. For you, in your com-
positions, say that the all is one, and of this you adduce excellent proofs ;
and he, on the other hand, says that the many is naught, and gives
many great and convincing evidences of this. To deceive the world,
as you have done, by saying the same thing in different ways, one of
you affirming and the other denying the many, is a strain of art beyond
the reach of most of us.

Yes, Socrates, said Zeno. But although you are as keen as a Spar-
tan hound in pursuing the track, you do not quite apprehend the true
motive of the performance, which is not really such an artificial piece
of work as you imagine ; there was no intention of concealment effect-
ing any grand result — that was a mere accident. For the truth is,
that these writings of mine were meant to protect the arguments of
Parmenides against those who ridicule him, and urge the many ridicu-
lous and contradictory results which were supposed to follow from the
assertion of the one. My answer is addressed to the partizans of the
many, and intended to show that greater or more ridiculous conse-
quences follow from their hypothesis of the existence of the many if
carried out, than from the hypothesis of the existence of the one. A
love of controversy led me to write the book in the days of my youth,
and some one stole the writings, and I had therefore no choice about
the publication of them ; the motive, however, of writing, was not the
ambition of an old man, but the pugnacity of a young one. This you
do not seem to see, Socrates ; though in other respects, as I was saying,
your notion is a very just one.

That I understand, said Socrates, and quite accept your account.
But tell me, Zeno, do you not further think that there is an idea of
likeness in the abstract, and another idea of unlikeness, which is the
opposite of likeness, and that in these two, you and I and all other
things to which we apply the term many, participate ; and that the
things which participate in likeness are in that degree and manner
like ; and that those which participate in unlikeness are in that degree
unlike, or both like and unlike in the degree in which they participate
in both? And all things may partake of both opposites, and be like
and unlike to themselves, by reason of this participation. Even in
that there is nothing wonderful. But if a person could prove the

242 PLATO

absolute like to become unlike, or the absolute unlike to become like,
that, in my opinion, would be a real wonder; not, however, if the
things which partake of the ideas experience likeness and unlikeness —
there is nothing extraordinary in this. Nor, again, if a person were
to show that all is one by partaking of one, and that the same is many
by partaking of many, would that be very wonderful? But if he
were to show me that the absolute many was one, or the absolute one
many, I should be truly amazed. And I should say the same of other
things. I should be surprised to hear that the genera and species had
opposite qualities in themselves ; but if a person wanted to prove of me
that I was many and also one, there would be no marvel in that. When
he wanted to show that I was many he would say that I have a right
and a left side, and a front and a back, and an upper and a lower half,
for I cannot deny that I partake of multitude ; when, on the other hand
he wants to prove that I am one, he will say, that we who are here
assembled are seven, and that I am one and partake of the one, and in
saying both he speaks truly. Or if a person shows that the same wood
and stones and the like, being many are also one, we admit that he
shows the existence of the one and many, but he does not show that
the many are one or the one many ; he is uttering not a wonder but a
truism. If, however, as I was suggesting just now, we were to make
an abstraction, I mean of like, unlike, one, many, rest, motion, and
similar ideas, and then to show that these in their abstract form admit
of admixture and separation, I should greatly wonder at that. This
part of the argument appears to be treated by you, Zeno, in a very
spirited manner; nevertheless, as I was saying, I should be far more
amazed if any one found in the ideas themselves which are conceptions,
the same puzzle and entanglement which you have shown to exist in
visible objects.

While Socrates was saying this, Pythodorus thought that Parmen-
ides and Zeno were not altogether pleased at the successive steps of the
argument ; but still they gave the closest attention, and often looked at
one another, and smiled as if in admiration of him. When he had
finished, Parmenides expressed these feelings in the following words :

Socrates, he said, I admire the bent of your mind towards philos-
ophy; tell me now, was this your own distinction between abstract
ideas and the things which partake of them ? and do you think that there
is an idea of likeness apart from the likeness which we possess, or of
the one and many, or of the other notions of which Zeno has been
speaking ?

PLATO 243

I think that there are such abstract ideas, said Socrates.

Parmenides proceeded. And would you also make abstract ideas
of the just and the beautiful and the good, and of all that class of
notions ?

Yes, he said, I should.

And would you make an abstract idea of man distinct from us and
from all other human creatures, or of fire and water ?

I am often undecided, Parmenides, as to whether I ought to include
them or not.

And would you feel equally undecided, Socrates, about things the
mention of which may provoke a smile? — I mean such things as hair,
mud, dirt, or anything else that is foul and base ; would you suppose
that each of these has an idea distinct from the phenomena with
which we come into contact, or not ?

Certainly not, said Socrates ; visible things like these are such as
they appear to us, and I am afraid that there would be an absurdity in
assuming any idea of them, although I sometimes get disturbed, and
begin to think that there is nothing without an idea; but then again,
when I have taken up this position, I run away, because I am afraid
that I may fall into a bottomless pit of nonsense, and perish; and I
return to the ideas of which I was just now speaking, and busy myself
with them.

Yes, Socrates, said Parmenides ; that is because you are still
young ; the time will come when philosophy will have a firmer grasp
of you, if I am not mistaken, and then you will not despise even the
meanest things ; at your age, you are too much disposed to look to the
opinions of men. But I should like to know whether you mean that
there are certain forms or ideas of which all other things partake, and
from which they are named ; that similars, for example, become similar
because they partake of similarity; and great things become great
because they partake of greatness ; and that just and beautiful thing?
become just and beautiful, because they partake of justice and beauty?

Yes, certainly, said Socrates, that is my meaning.

And does not each individual partake either of the whole of the
idea or of a part of the idea? Is any third way possible?

Impossible, he said.

Then do you think that the whole idea is one, and yet being one,
exists in each one of many?

Why not, Parmenides ? said Socrates.

Because one and the same existing as a whole in many separate

244 PLATO

individuals, will thus be in a state of separation from itself.

Nay, replied the other ; the idea may be like the day which is one
and the same in many places, and yet continuous with itself; in this
way each idea may be one and the same in all.

I like your way, Socrates, of dividing one into many; and if I
were to spread out a sail and cover a number of men, that, as I
suppose, in your way of speaking, would be one and a whole in or on
many — that will be the sort of thing which you mean ?

I am not sure.

And would you say that the whole sail is over each man, or a part
only.

A part only.

Then, Socrates, the ideas themselves will be divisible, and the
individuals will have a part only and not the whole existing in them?

That seems to be true. - .

Then would you like to say, Socrates, that the one idea is really
divisible and yet remains one?

Certainly not, he said.

Suppose that you divide greatness, and that of many great things
each one is great by having a portion of greatness less than absolute
greatness — is that conceivable?

No.

Or will each equal part, by taking some portion of equality less
than absolute equality, be equal to some other?

Impossible.

Or suppose one of us to have a portion of smallness; this is but
a part of the small, and therefore the small is greater ; and while the
absolute small is greater, that to which the part of the small is added,
will be smaller and not greater than before.

That is impossible, he said.

Then in what way, Socrates, will all things participate in the
ideas, if they are unable to participate in them either as parts or
wholes ?

Indeed, he said, that is a question which is not easily determined.

Well, said Parmenides, and what do you say of another question ?

What is that?

I imagine that the way in which you are led to assume the
existence of ideas is as follows : — You see a number of great objects,
and there seems to you to be one and the same idea of greatness
pervading them all; and hence you conceive of a single greatness.

PLATO 245

That is true, said Socrates.

And if you go on and allow your mind in like manner to con-
template the idea of greatness and these other greatnesses, and to
compare them, will not another idea of greatness arise, which will
appear to be the source of them all?

That is true.

Then another abstraction of greatness will appear over and above
absolute greatness, and the individuals which partake of it; and then
another, which will be the source of that, and then others, and so
on; and there will be no longer a single idea of each kind, but an
infinite number of them.

But may not the ideas, asked Socrates, be cognitions only, and
have no proper existence except in our minds, Parmenides? For in
that case there may be single ideas, which do not involve the con-
sequences which were just now mentioned.

And can there be individual cognitions which are cognitions of
nothing ?

That is impossible, he said.

The cognition must be of something?

Yes.

Of something that is or is not?

Of something that is.

Must it not be of the unity or single nature which the cogni-
tion recognises as attaching to all?

Yes.

And will not this unity, which is always the same in all be the
idea?

From that, again, there is no escape.

Then, said Parmenides, if you say that other things participate
in the ideas, must you not say that everything is made up of thoughts
or cognitions, and that all things think; or will you say that being
thoughts they are without thoughts?

But that- said Socrates, is irrational. The more probable view,
Parmenides, of these ideas is, that they are patterns fixed in nature,
and that other things are like them, and resemblances of them; and
that what is meant by the participation of other things in the ideas,
is really assirnilation to them.

But if, said he, the individual is like the idea, must not the idea
also be like the individual, in as far as the individual is a resemblance
of the idea? That which is like, cannot be conceived of as other

246 PLATO

than the like of like,

Impossible.

And when two things are alike, must they not partake of the
same idea.

They must.

And will not that of which the two partake, and which makes
them alike, be the absolute idea [of likeness] ?

Certainly.

Then the idea cannot be like the individual, or the individual
like the idea; for if they are alike, some further idea of likeness will
always arise, and if that be like anything else, another and another;
and new ideas will never cease being created, if the idea resembles that
which partakes of it?

Quite true.

The theory, then, that other things participate in the ideas by
resemblance, has to be given up, and some other mode of participation
devised ?

That is true.

Do you see then, Socrates, how great is the difficulty of affirming
self-existent ideas?

Yes, indeed.

And, further, let me say that as yet you only understand a small
part of the difficulty which is involved in your assumption, that there
are ideas of all things, which are distinct from them.

What difficulty? he said.

There are many, but the greatest of all is this : — If an opponent
argues that these self-existent ideas, as we term them, cannot be known,
no one can prove to him that he is wrong, unless he who is disputing
their existence be a man of great genius and cultivation, and is willing
to follow a long and laborious- demonstration — he will remain un-
qpnvinced, and still insist that they cannot be known.

How is that, Parmenides? said Socrates.

In the first place, I think, Socrates, that you, or any one who
maintains the existence of absolute ideas, will admit that they cannot
exist in us.

Why, then they would be no longer absolute, said Socrates.

That is true, he said : and any relation in the absolute ideas, is a
relation which is among themselves only, and has nothing to do with
the resemblances, or whatever they are to be termed, which are in
our sphere, and the participation in which gives us this or that name.

PLATO 247

And the subjective notions in our mind, which have the same name
with them, are likewise only relative to one another, and not to the
ideas which have the same name with them, and belong to themselves,
and not to the ideas.

How do you mean? said Socrates.

I may illustrate my meaning in this way, said Parmenides: — A
master has a slave; now there is nothing absolute in the relation
between them ; they are both relations of some man to another man ;
but there is also an idea of mastership in the abstract, which is rela-
tive to the idea of slavery in the abstract; and this abstract nature
has nothing to do with us, nor we with the abstract nature; abstract
natures have to do with themselves alone, and we with ourselves.
Do you see my meaning?

Yes, said Socrates, I quite see your meaning.

And does not knowledge, I mean absolute knowledge, he said,
answer to very and absolute truth?

Certainly.

And each kind of absolute knowledge answers to each kind of
absolute being?

Yes.

And the knowledge which we have, will answer to the truth which
we have; and again, each kind of knowledge which we have, will
be a knowledge of each kind of being which we have ?

Certainly.

But the ideas themselves, as you admit, we have not, and cannot
have?

No, we cannot.

And the absolute ideas or species, are known by the absolute idea
of knowledge?

Yes.

And what is an idea which we have not got ?

No.

Then none of the ideas are known to us, because we have no
share in absolute knowledge?

They are not.

Then the ideas of the beautiful, and of the good, and the like,
which we imagine to be absolute ideas, are unknown to us ?

That appears to be the case.

I think that there is a worse consequence still.

What is that?

218 PLATO

Would you, or would you not, say, that if there is such a thing as
absolute knowledge, that must be a far more accurate knowledge than
our knowledge, and the same of beauty and other things?

Yes.

And if there be anything that has absolute knowledge, there is
nothing more likely than God to have this most exact knowledge?

Certainly.

But then, will God, having this absolute knowledge, have a knowl-
edge of human things?

And why not?

Because. Socrates, said Parmenides, we have admitted that the
ideas have no relation to human notions, nor human notions to them;
the relations of either are in their respective spheres.

Yes, that has been admitted.

And if God has this truest authority, and this most exact know-
ledge, that authority cannot rule us, nor that knowledge know us, or
any human thing; and in like manner, as our authority does not
extend to the gods, nor our knowledge know anything which is divine,
so by parity of reason they, being gods, are not our masters ; neither
do they know the things of men.

Yet, surely, said Socrates, to deprive God of knowledge is mons-
trous.

These, Socrates, said Parmenides, are a few, and only a few, of
the difficulties which are necessarily involved in the hypothesis of the
existence of ideas, and the attempt to prove the absoluteness of each
of them ; he who hears of them will doubt or deny their existence,
and will maintain that even if they do exist, they must necessarily
be unknown to man, and he will think that there is reason in what
he says, and as we were remarking just now, will be wonderfully
hard of being convinced ; a man must be a man of real ability
before he can understand that everything has a class and an absolute
essence ; and still more remarkable will he be who makes out all these
things for himself, and can teach another to analyse them satisfactorily.

I agree with you, Parmenides, said Socrates ; and what you say
is very much to my mind.

And yet, Socrates, said Parmenides, if a man, fixing his mind
on these and the like difficulties, refuses to ackonwledge ideas or
species of existences, and will not define particular species, he will be
at his wit's end; in this way he will utterly destroy the power of
reasoning ; and that is what you seem to me to have particularly noted.

PHAEDO

SCENE: — THE PRISON UK so< uvn-.

PLACK Of-' NARRATION : — PHTI.Il.';>

ATTENDANT

Were '.
Phaedo. Yes, t!ch« -

AH3HTA MAMM3J flCH CA3H

not

ljhaed. An accident. Echecrates. in: reavjn was that the stern
he ship which the Athenians sent to Deles happened to have- hc^i
vned on the day before he was trterj.

Ech. What is this ship?

Phaed. This is the ship in which, as the \thfnians <av. Thestn-*
i' to Crete when he took with him the tVjnw

BOLOGNA HEAD FOR LEMN1AN ATHENA
Aiier Phidias.

PLATO 249

PHAEDO

SCENE : — THE PRISON OF SOCRATES
PLACE OF NARRATION : PHILIUS

THE DIALOGUE describes the death of Socrates, gives a new devel-
opment to the doctrine of Ideas, and discusses the question of immor-
tality.

PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE

PHAEDO, THE NARRATOR SIMMIAS

ECHECRATES CEBES

SOCRATES CRITO

APPOLODORUS ATTENDANT OF THE PRISON

Echecrates. Were you yourself, Phaedo, in the prison with Soc-
rates on the day when he drank the poison ?

Phaedo. Yes, Echecrates, I was.

Ech. I wish that you would tell me about his death. What did
he say in his last hours? We were informed that he died by taking
poison, but no one knew anything more; for no Phliasian ever goes
to Athens now, and a long time has elapsed since any Athenian found
has way to Phlius, and therefore we had no clear account.

Phaed. Did you not hear of the proceedings at the trial ?

Ech. Yes; some one told us about the trial, and we could not
understand why, having been condemned, he was put to death, as
appeared, not at the time, but long afterwards. What was the reason
of this ?

Phaed. An accident, Echecrates. The reason was that the stern
of the ship which the Athenians sent to Delos happened to have been
crowned on the day before he was tried.

Ech. What is this ship ?

Phaed. This is the ship in which, as the Athenians say, Theseus
went to Crete when he took with him the fourteen youths, and was

V 2-16

250 PLATO

the saviour of them and of himself. And they were said to have vowed
to Apollo at the time, that if they were saved they would make an
annual pilgrimage to Delos. Now this custom still continues, and
the whole period of the voyage to and from Delos, beginning when
the priest of Apollo crowns the stern of the ship, is a holy season,
during which the city is not allowed to be polluted by public execu-
tions ; and often, when the vessel is detained by adverse winds, there
may be a very considerable delay. As I was saying, the ship was
crowned on the day before the trial, and this was the reason why Soc-
rates lay in prison $nd was not put to death until long after he Avas
condemned.

Ech. What was the manner of his death, Phaedo? What was
said or done ? And which of his friends had he with him ? Or were
they not allowed by the authorities to be present? And did he die
alone ?

Phaed. No ; there were several of his friends with him.

Ech. If you have nothing to do, I wish that you would tell me
what passed, as exactly as you can.

Phaed. I have nothing to do, and will try to gratify your wish.
For to me too there is no greater pleasure than to have Socrates
brought to my recollection ; whether I speak myself or hear another
speak of him.

Ech. You will have listeners who are of the same mind with
you, and I hope that you will be as exact as you can.

Phaed. I remember the strange feeling which came over me at
being with him. For I could hardly believe that I was present at the
death of a friend, and therefore I did not pity him, Echecrates; his
mien and his language were so noble and fearless in the hour of death
that to me he appeared blessed. I thought that in going to the other
world he could not be without a divine call, and that he would be
happy, if any man ever was, when he arrived there; and therefore I
did not pity him as might seem natural at such a time. But neither
could I feel the pleasure which I usually felt in philosophical discourse
(for philosophy was the theme of which we spoke). I was pleased and
I was also pained, because I knew that he was soon to die, and this
strange mixture of feeling was shared by us all ; we were laughing
and weeping by turns, especially the excitable Apollodorus — you
know the sort of man?

Ech. Yes.

PLATO 251

Phaed. He was quite overcome ; and I myself, and all of us were
greatly moved.

Ech. Who were present?

Phaed. Of native Athenians there were, besides Apollodorus,
Critobulus and his father Crito, Hermogenes, Epigenes, Aeschines,
and Antisthenes; likewise Ctesippus of the deme of Paeania, Men-
exenus, and some others ; but Plato, if I am not mistaken, was ill.

Ech. Were there any strangers?

Phaed. Yes, there were; Simmias the Theban, and Cebes, and
Phaedondes ; Euclid and Terpsion, who came from Megara.

Ech. And was Aristippus there, and Cleombrotus?

Phaed. No, they were said to be in Aegina.

Ech. Any one else?

Phaed. I think that these were about all.

Ech. And what was the discourse of which you spoke?

Phaed. I will begin at the beginning, and endeavour to repeat
the entire conversation. You must understand that we had been pre-
viously in the habit of assembling early in the morning at the court
in which the trial was held, and which is not far from the prison.
There we remained talking with one another until the opening of the
prison doors (for they were not opened very early), and then went in
and generally passed the day with Socrates. On the last morning the
meeting was earlier than usual ; this was owing to our having heard
on the previous evening that the sacred ship had arrived from Delos,
and therefore we agreed to meet very early at the accustomed place.
On our going to the prison, the jailer who answered the door, instead
of admitting us, came out and bade us wait and he would call us. 'For
the eleven,' he said, 'are now with Socrates ; they are taking off his
chains, and giving orders that he is to die to-day.' He soon returned
and said that we might come in. On entering we found Socrates just
released from chains, and Xanthippe, whom you know, sitting by him,
and holding his child in her arms. When she saw us she uttered a
cry and said, as women will : 'O Socrates, this is the last time that
either you will converse with your friends, or they with you.' Soc-
rates turned to Crito and said : 'Crito, let some one take her home.'
Some of Crito's people accordingly led her away, crying out and beat-
ing herself. And when she was gone, Socrates, sitting up on the
couch, began to bend and rub his leg, saying, as he rubbed: How
singular is the thing called pleasure, and how curiously related to pain,
which might be thought to be the opposite of it ; for they never come

252 PLATO

to a man together, and yet he who pursues either of them is generally
compelled to take the other. They are two, and yet they grow to-
gether out of one head or stem; and I cannot help thinking that if
Aesop had noticed them, he would have made a fable about God try-
ing to reconcile their strife, and when he could not, he fastened their
heads together ; and this is the reason why when one conies the other
follows, as I find in my own case pleasure comes following after the
pain in my leg which was caused by the chain.

Upon this Cebes said : I am very glad indeed, Socrates, that you
mentioned the name of Aesop. For that reminds me of a question
which has been asked by others, and was asked of me only the day
before yesterday by Evenus the poet, and as he will be sure to ask
again, you may as well tell me what I should say to him, if you would
like him to have an answer. He wanted to know why you who never
before wrote a line of poetry, now that you are in prison are putting
Aesop into verse, and also composing that hymn in honour of Apollo.

Tell him, Cebes, he replied, that I had no idea of rivalling him or
his poems; which is the truth, for I knew that I could not do that.
But I wanted to see whether I could purge away a scruple which I
felt about certain dreams. In the course of my life I have often had
intimations in dreams 'that I should make music.' The same dream
came to me sometimes in one form, and sometimes in another, but
always saying the same or nearly the same words : Make and cultivate
music, said the dream. And hitherto I had imagined that this was
only intended to exhort and encourage me in the study of philosophy,
which has always been the pursuit of my life, and is the noblest and
best of music. The dream was bidding me do what I was already
doing, in the same way that the competitor in a race is bidden by the
spectators to run when he is already running. But I was not certain
of this, as the dream might have meant music in the popular sense of
the word, and being under sentence of death, and the festival giving
me a respite, I thought that I should be safer if I satisfied the scruple,
and, in obedience to the dream, composed a few verses before I de-
parted. And first I made a hymn in honour of the god of the festi-
val, and then considering that a poet, if he is really to be a poet or
maker, should not only put words together but make stories, and as
I have no invention, I took some fables of Aesop, which I had ready
at hand and knew, and turned them into verse. Tell Evenus this, and
bid him be of good cheer ; say that I would have him come after me
if he be a wise man, and not tarry ; and that to-day I am likely to be

PLATO 253

going, for the Athenians say that I must.

Simmias said : What a message for such a man ! having been a
frequent companion of his I should say that, as far as I know him, he
will never take your advice unless he is obliged.

Why, said Socrates. Is not Evenus a philosopher?

I think that he is, said Simmias.

Then he, or any man who has the spirit of philosophy, will be
willing to die, though he will not take his own life, for that is held not
to be right.

Here he changed his position, and put his legs off the couch on
to the ground, and during the rest of the conversation he remained
sitting.

Why do you say, inquired Cebes, that a man ought not to take
his own life, but that the philosopher will be ready to follow the dying ?

Socrates replied : And have you, Cebes and Simmias, who are
acquainted with Philolaus, never heard him speak of this?

I never understood him, Socrates.

My words, too, are only an echo ; but I am very willing to say
what I have heard : and indeed, as I am going to another place, I
ought to be thinking and talking of the nature of the pilgrimage which
I am about to make. What can I do better in the interval between
this and the setting of the sun?

Then tell me, Socrates, why is suicide held not to be right? as I
have certainly heard Philolaus affirm when he was staying with us
at Thebes ; and there are others who say the same, although none of
them has ever made me understand him.

But do your best, replied Socrates, and the day may come when
you will understand. I suppose that you wonder why, as most things
which are evil may be accidentally good, this is to be the only excep-
tion (for may not death, too, be better than life in some cases?), and
why, when a man is better dead, he is not permitted to be his own
benefactor, but must wait for the hand of another.

By Jupiter ! yes, indeed, said Cebes laughing, and speaking in his
native Doric.

I admit the appearance of inconsistency, replied Socrates ; but
there may not be any real inconsistency after all in this. There is a
doctrine uttered in secret that man is a prisoner who has no right to
open the door of his prison and run away; this is a great mystery
which I do not quite understand. Yet I too believe that the gods are

254 PLATO

our guardians, and that we are a possession of theirs. Do you not
agree ?

Yes, I agree to that, said Cebes.

And if one of your own possessions, an ox or an ass, for example,
took the liberty of putting himself out of the way when you had given
no intimation of your wish that he should die, would you not be angry
with him, and would you not punish him if you could ?

Certainly, replied Cebes.

Then there may be reason in saying that a man should wait, and
not take his own life until God summons him, as he is now summoning
me.

Yes, Socrates, said Cebes, there is surely reason in that. And
yet how can you reconcile this seemingly true belief that God is our
guardian and we his possessions, with that willingness to die which
we were attributing to the philosopher ? That the wisest of men should
be willing to leave this service in which they are ruled by the gods who
are the best of rulers, is not reasonable, for surely no wise man thinks
that when set at liberty he can take better care of himself than the
gods take of him. A fool may perhaps think this — he may argue that
he had better run away from his master, not considering that his duty
is to remain to the end, and not to run away from the good, and that
there is no sense in his running away. But the wise man will want
to be ever with him who is better than himself. Now this, Socrates,
is the reverse of what was just now said ; for upon this view the wise
man should sorrow and the fool rejoice at passing out of life.

The earnestness of Cebes seemed to please Socrates. Here, said
he, turning to us, is a man who is always inquiring, and is not to be
convinced all in a moment, nor by every argument.

And in this case, added Simmias, his objection does appear to me
to have some force. For what can be the meaning of a truly wise
man wanting to fly away and lightly leave a master who is better than
himself. And I rather imagine that Cebes is referring to you; he
thinks that you are too ready to leave us, and too ready to leave the
gods who, as you acknowledge, are our good rulers.

Yes, replied Socrates ; there is reason in that. And this indict-
ment you think that I ought to answer as if I were in court?

That is what we should like, said Simmias.

Then I must try to make a better impression upon you than I
did when defending myself before the judges. For I am quite ready
to acknowledge, Simmias and Cebes, that I ought to be grieved at

PLATO 253

death, if I were not persuaded that I am going to other gods who are
wise and good (of this I am as certain as I can be of anything of the
sort), and to men departed (though I am not so certain of this) who
are better than those whom I leave behind; and therefore I do not
grieve as I might have done, for I have good hope that there is yet
something remaining for the dead, and as has been said of old, some
far better thing for the good than for the evil.

But do you mean to take away your thoughts with you, Socrates,
said Simmias? Will you not communicate them to us? — the benefit
is one in which we too may hope to share. Moreover, if you succeed
in convincing us, that will be an answer to the charge against yourself.

I will do my best, replied Socrates. But you must first let me
hear what Crito wants ; he was going to say something to me.

Only this, Socrates, replied Crito : — the attendant who is to give
you the poison has been telling me that you are not to talk much, and
he wants me to let you know this ; for that by talking, heat is increased,
and this interferes with the action of the poison; those who excite
themselves are sometimes obliged to drink the poison two or three
times.

Then, said Socrates, let him mind his business and be prepared
to give the poison two or three times, if necessary ; that is all.

I was almost certain that you would say that, replied Crito ; but
I was obliged to satisfy him.

Never mind him, he said.

And now I will make answer to you, O my judges, and show that
he who has lived as a true philosopher has reason to be of good cheer
when he is about to die, and that after death he may hope to receive
the greatest good in the other world. And how this may be, Sim-
mias and Cebes, I will endeavour to explain. For I deem that the
true disciple of philosophy is likely to be misunderstood by other men ;
they do not perceive that he is ever pursuing death and dying; and
if this is true, why, having had the desire of death all his life long,
should he repine at the arrival of that which he has been always pur->
suing and desiring ?

Simmias laughed and said: Though not in a laughing humour,
I swear that I cannot help laughing, when I think what the wicked
world will say when they hear this. They will say that this is very
true, and our people at home will agree with them in saying that the
life which philosophers desire is truly death, and that they have found
them out to be deserving of the death which they desire.

256 PLATO

And they are right, Simmias, in saying this, with the exception
of the words 'they have found them out ;' for they have not found out
what is the nature of this death which the true philosopher desires, or
how he deserves or desires death. But let us leave them and have a
word with ourselves : Do we believe that there is such a thing as death ?

To be sure, replied Simmias.

And is this anything but the separation of soul and body? And
being dead is the attainment of this separation when the soul exists
in herself, and is parted from the body and the body is parted from
the soul — that is death?

Exactly : that and nothing else, he replied.

And what do you say of another question, my friend, about which
I should like to have your opinion, and the answer to which will prob-
ably throw light on our present inquiry : Do you think that the phil-
osopher ought to care about the pleasures — if they are to be called
pleasures of eating and drinking?

Certainly not, answered Simmias.

And what do you say of the pleasures of love — should he care
about them?

By no means.

And will he think much of the other ways of indulging the body,
for example, the acquisition of costly raiment, or sandals or other
adornments of the body ? Instead of caring about them, does he not
rather despise anything more than nature needs? What do you say?

I should say that the true philosopher would despise them.

Would you not say that he is entirely concerned with the soul
and not with the body ? He would like, as far as he can, to be quit
of the body and turn to the soul.

That is true.

In matters of this sort philosophers, above all other men, may be
observed in every sort of way to dissever the soul from the body.

That is true.

Whereas, Simmias, the rest of the world are of opinion that a life
which has no bodily pleasures and no part in them is not worth having ;
but that he who thinks nothing of bodily pleasures is almost as though
Ee were dead.

That is quite true.

What again shall we say of the actual acquirement of knowledge ?
— is tfie body, if invited to share in the inquiry, a hinderer or a helper?
I mean to say, have sight and hearing any truth in them? Are they

PLATO 257

not, as the poets are always telling us, inaccurate witnesses ? and yer,
if even they are inaccurate and indistinct, what is to be said of the other
senses ? — for you will allow that they are the best of them ?

Certainly, he replied.

Then when does the soul attain truth ? — for in attempting to con-
sider anything in company with the body she is obviously deceived.

Yes, that is true.

Then must not existence be revealed to her in thought, if at all?

Yes.

And thought is best when the mind is gathered into herself and
none of the things trouble her — neither sounds nor sights nor pain
nor any pleasure, — when she has as little as possible to do with the
body, and has no bodily sense or feeling, but is aspiring after being?

That is true.

And in this the philosopher dishonours the body; his soul runs
away from the body and desires to be alone and by herself?

That is true.

Well, but there is another thing, Simmias : Is there or is there
not an absolute justice ?

Assuredly there is.

And an absolute beauty and absolute good ?

Of course.

But did you ever behold any of them with your eyes ?

Certainly not.

Or did you ever reach them with any other bodily sense ? (and I
speak not of these alone, but of absolute greatness, and health, and
strength, and of the essence or true nature of everything). Has the
reality of them ever been perceived by you through the bodily organs ?
or rather, is not the nearest approach to the knowledge of their several
natures made by him who so orders his intellectual vision as to have
the most exact conception of the essence of that which he considers ?

Certainly.

And he attains to the knowledge of them in their highest purity
who goes to each of them with the mind alone, not allowing when in
the act of thought the intrusion or introduction of sight or any other
sense in the company of reason, but with the very light of the mind in
her clearness penetrates into the very light of truth in each ; he has
got rid, as far as he can, of eyes and ears and of the whole body, which
he conceives of only as a disturbing element, hindering the soul from
the acquisition of knowledge when in company with her — is not this

258 PLATO

the sort of man who, if ever man did, is likely to attain the knowledge

of existence?

There is admirable truth in that, Socrates, replied Simmias.
And when they consider all this, must not true philosophers make
a reflection, of which they will speak to one another in such words as
these : We have found, they will say, a path of speculation which seems
to bring us and the argument to the conclusion, that while we are in
the body, and while the soul is mingled with this mass of evil, our
desire will not be satisfied, and our desire is of the truth. For the
body is a source of endless trouble to us by reason of the mere re-
quirement of food ; and also is liable to diseases which overtake and
impede us in the search after truth : and by filling us as full of loves,
and lusts, and fears, and fancies, and idols, and every sort of folly,
prevents our ever having, as people say, so much as a thought. For
whence come wars, and fightings, and factions? whence but from the
body and the lusts of the body ? For wars are occasioned by the love
of money, and money has to be acquired for the sake and in the service
of the body; and in consequence of all these things the time which
ought to be given to philosophy is lost. Moreover, if there is time
and an inclination towards philosophy, yet the body introduces a tur-
moil and confusion and fear into the course of speculation, and hinders
us from seeing the truth ; and all experience shows that if we would
have pure knowledge of anything we must be quit of the body, and
the soul in herself must behold all things in themselves : then, I sup-
pose, that we shall attain that which we desire, and of which we say
that we are lovers, and that is wisdom ; not while we live, but after
death, as the argument shows ; for if while in company with the body,
the soul cannot have pure knowledge, one of two things seems to follow
— either knowledge is not to be attained at all, or, if at all, after death.
For then, and not till then, the soul will be in herself alone and without
the body. In this present life, I reckon that we make the nearest
approach to knowledge when we have the least possible concern or
interest in the body, and are not saturated with the bodily nature, but
remain pure until the hour when God himself is pleased to release us.
And then the foolishness of the body will be cleared away and we shall
be pure and hold converse with other pure souls, and know of our-
selves the clear light everywhere ; and this is surely th'e light of truth.
For no impure thing is allowed to approach the pure. TKese are the
sort of words, Simmias, which the true lovers of wisdom cannot help
saying to one another, and thinking. You will agree with me in that?

PLATO 259

Certainly, Socrates,

But if this is true, O my friend, then there is great hope that, going
whither I go, I shall there be satisfied with that which has been the
chief concern of you and me in our past lives. And now that the hour
of departure is appointed to me, this is the hope with which I depart,
and not I only, but every man who believes that he has his mind
purified.

Certainly, replied Simmias.

And what is purification but the separation of the soul from the
body, as I was saying before ; the habit of the soul gathering and col-
lecting herself into herself, out of all the courses of the body; the
dwelling in her own place alone, as in another life, so also in this, as
far as she can ; — the release of the soul from the chains of the body ?

Very true, he said.

And what is that which is termed death, but this very separation
and release of the soul from the body ?

To be sure, he said.

And the true philosophers, and they only, study and are eager to
release the soul. Is not the separation and release of the soul from
the body their especial study?

That is true.

And, as I was saying at first, there would be a ridiculous contra-
diction in men studying to live as nearly as they can in a state of death,
and yet repining when death comes.

Certainly.

Then Simmias, as the true philosophers are ever studying death,
to them, of all men, death is the least terrible. Look at the matter
in this way : — how inconsistent of them to have been always enemies
of the body, and wanting to have the soul alone, and when this is
granted to them, to be trembling and repining; instead of rejoicing
at their departing to that place where, when they arrive, they hope to
gain that which in life they loved (and this was wisdom), and at the
same time to be rid of the company of their enemy. Many a man
has been willing to go to the world below in the hope of seeing there
an earthly love, or wife, or son, and conversing with them. And will
he who is a true lover of wisdom, and is persuaded in like manner that
only in the world below he can worthily enjoy her, still repine at death ?
Will he not depart with joy? Surely, he will, my friend, if he be a
true philosopher. For he will have a firm conviction that there only,
and nowhere else, he can find wisdom in her purity. And if this be

260 PLATO

true, he would be very absurd, as I was saying, if he were to fear death.

He would indeed, replied Simmias.

And when you see a man who is repining at the approach of death,
is not his reluctance a sufficient proof that he is not a lover of wisdom,
but a lover of the body, and probably at the same time a lover of either
money or power, or both?

That is very true, he replied.

There is a virtue, Simmias, which is named courage. Is not that
a special attribute of the philosopher ?

Certainly.

Again, there is temperance. Is not the calm, and control, and
disdain of the passions which even the many call temperance, a quality
belonging only to those who despise the body, and live in philosophy?

That is not to be denied.

For the courage and temperance of other men, if you will consider
them, are really a contradiction.

How is that, Socrates ?

Well, he said, you are aware that death is regarded by men in gen-
eral as a great evil.

That is true, he said.

And do not courageous men endure dea'th because they are afraid
of yet greater evils ?

That is true.

Then all but the philosophers are courageous only from fear, and
becaiise they are afraid ; and yet that a man should be courageous from
fear, and because he is a coward, is surely a strange thing.

Very true.

And are not the temperate exactly in the same case? They are
temperate because they are intemperate — which may seem to be a con-
tradiction, but is nevertheless the sort of thing which happens with
this foolish temperance. For there are pleasures which they must
have, and are afraid of losing; and therefore they abstain from one
class of pleasures because they are overcome by another : and whereas
intemperance is defined as 'being under the dominion of pleasure,' they
overcome only because they are overcome by pleasure. And that is
what I mean by saying that they are temperate through intemperance.

That appears to be true.

Yet the exchange of one fear or pleasure or pain for another fear
or pleasure or pain, which are measured like coins, the greater with
the less, is not the exchange of virtue. O my dear Simmias, is there

PLATO aui

not one true coin for which all things ought to exchange? — and that
is wisdom ; and only in exchange for this, and in company with this,
is anything truly bought or sold, whether courage or temperance or
justice. And is not all true virtue the companion of wisdom, no matter
what fears or pleasures or other similar goods or evils may or may not
attend her? But the virtue which is made up of these goods, when
they are severed from wisdom and exchanged with one another, is a
shadow of virtue only, nor is there any freedom or health or truth in
her; but in the true exchange there is a purging away of all these
things, and temperance, and justice, and courage, and wisdom herself,
are a purgation of them. And I conceive that the founders of the
mysteries had a real* meaning and were not mere triflers when they
intimated in a figure long ago that he who passed unsanctified and un-
initiated into the world below will live in a slough, but that he who
arrives there after initiation and purification will dwell with the gods.
For 'many/ as they say in the mysteries, 'are the thyrsus-bearers, but
few are the mystics,' — meaning, as I interpret the words, the true phil-
osophers. In the number of whom I have been seeking, according to
my ability, to find a place during my whole life; — whether I have
sought in a right way or not, and whether I have succeeded or not, I
shall truly know in a little while, if God will, when I myself arrive in
the other world : that is my belief. And now Simmias and Cebes, I
have answered those who charge me with not grieving or repining at
parting from you and my masters in this world; and I am right in
not repining, for I believe that I shall find other masters and friends
who are as good in the world below. But all men cannot receive this,
and I shall be glad if my words have any more success with you than
with the judges of Athenians.

Cebes answered: I agree, Socrates, in the greater part of what
you say. But in what relates to the soul, men are apt to be incredu-
lous; they fear that when she leaves the body her place may be no-
where, and that on the very day of death she may be destroyed and
perish — immediately on her release from the body, issuing forth like
smoke or air and vanishing away into nothingness. For if she could
only hold together and be herself after she was released from the evils
of the body, there would be good reason to hope, Socrates, that what
you say is true. But much persuasion and many arguments are re-
quired in order to prove that when the man is dead the soul yet exists,
and has any force or intelligence.

True, Cebes, said Socrates ; and shall I suggest that we talk a little

262 PLATO

of the probabilities of these things ?

I am sure, said Cebes, that I should greatly like to know your
opinion about them.

I reckon, said Socrates, that no one who heard me now, not even
if he were one of my old enemies, the comic poets, could accuse me of
idle talking about matters in which I have no concern. Let us then,
if you please, proceed with the inquiry.

Whether the souls of men after death are or are not in the world
below, is a question which may be argued in this manner: — The
ancient doctrine of which I have been speaking affirms that they go
from hence into the other world, and return hither, and are born from
the dead. Now if this be true, and the living come from the dead, then
our souls must be in the other world, for if not, how could they be
born again ? And this would be conclusive, if there were any real evi-
dence that the living are only born from the dead ; but if there is no
evidence of this, then other arguments will have to be adduced.

That is very true, replied Cebes.

Then let us consider this question, not in relation to man only,
but in relation to animals generally, and to plants, and to everything
of which there is generation, and the proof will be easier. Are not all
things which have opposites generated out of their opposites ? I mean
such things as good and evil, just and unjust — and there are innum-
erable other opposites which are generated out of opposites. And I
want to show that this holds universally of all opposites ; I mean to
say, for example, that anything which becomes greater must become
greater after being less.

True.

And that which becomes less must have been once greater and
then become less.

Yes.

And the weaker is generated from the stronger, and the swifter
from the slower.

Very true.

And the worse is from the better, and the more just is from the
more unjust?

Of course.

And is this true of all opposites? and are we convinced that all
of them are generated out of opposites ?

Yes.

And in this universal opposition of all things, are there not also

PLATO 263

two intermediate processes which are ever going on, from one to the
other, and back again; where there is a greater and a less there is
also an intermediate process of increase and diminution, and that which
grows is said to wax, and that which decays to wane ?

Yes, he said.

And there are many other processes, such as division and com-
position, cooling and heating, which equally involve a passage into
and out of one another. And this holds of all opposites, even though
not always expressed in words — they are generated out of one another,
and there is a passing or process from one to the other of them ?

Very true, he replied.

Well, and is there not an opposite of life, as sleep is the opposite
of waking?

True, he said.

And what is that?

Death, he answered.

And these then are generated, if they are opposites, the one from
the other, and have there their two intermediate processes also?

Of course.

Now, said Socrates, I will analyze one of the two pairs of oppo-
sites which I have mentioned to you, and also its intermediate pro-
cesses, and you shall analyze the other to me. The state of sleep is
opposed to the state of waking, and out of sleeping waking is gen-
erated, and out of waking, sleeping; and the process of generation
is in the one case falling asleep, and in the other waking up. Are you
agreed about that?

Quite agreed.

Then, suppose that you analyze life and death to me in the same
manner. Is not death opposed to life?

Yes.

And they are generated one from the other?

Yes.

What is generated from life ?

Death.

And what from death?

I can only say in answer — life.

Then the living, whether things or persons, Cebes, are generated
from the dead?

That is clear, he replied.

Then the inference is that our souls are in the world below?

264 PLATO

That is true.

And one of the two processes or generations is visible — for surely
the act of dying is visible ?

Surely, he said.

And may not the other be inferred as the complement of nature,
who is not to be supposed to go on one leg only ? And if not, a cor-
responding process of generation in death must also be assigned to
her?

Certainly, he replied.

And what is that process?

Revival.

And revival, if there be such a thing, is the birth of the dead into
the world of the living ?

Quite true.

Then here is a new way in which we arrive at the inference that
the living come from the dead, just as the dead come from the living;
and if this is true, then the souls of the dead must be in some place out
of which they come again. And this, as I think, has been satisfactorily
proved.

Yes, Socrates, he said ; all this seems to flow necessarily out of
our previous admissions.

And that these admissions were not unfair, Cebes, he said, may
be shown, as I think, in this way: If generation were in a straight
line only, and there were no compensation or circle in nature, no turn
or return into one another, then you know that all things would at
last have the same form and pass into the same state, and there would
be no more generation of them.

What do you mean ? he said.

A simple thing enough, which I will illustrate by the case of sleep,
he replied. You know that if there were no compensation of sleeping
and waking, the story of the sleeping Endymion would in the end have
no meaning, because all other things would be asleep too, and he would
not be thought of. Or if there were composition only, and no division
of substances, then the chaos of Anaxagoras would come again. And
in like manner, my dear Cebes, if all things which partook of life were
to die, and after they were dead remained in the form of death, and
did not come to life again, all would at last die, and nothing would be
alive — how could this be otherwise? For if the living spring from
any others who are not the dead, and they die, must not all things at
last be swallowed up in death ?

PIvATO 265

There is no escape from that, Socrates, said Cebes ; and I think
that what you say is entirely true.

Yes, he said, Cebes, I entirely think so too; and we are not
walking in a vain imagination : but I am confident in the belief that
there truly is such a thing as living again, and that the living spring
from the dead, and that the souls of the dead are in existence, and that
the good souls have a better portion than the evil.

Cebes added : Your favourite doctrine, Socrates, that knowledge
is simply recollection, if true, also necessarily implies a previous time
in which we learned that which we now recollect. But this would be
impossible unless our soul was in some place before existing in the
human form ; here then is another argument of the soul's immortality.

But tell me, Cebes, said Simmias, interposing, what proofs are
given of this doctrine of recollection? I am not very sure at this
moment that I remember them.

One excellent proof, said Cebes, is afforded by questions. If
you put a question to a person in a right way, he will give a true
answer of himself, but how could he do this unless there were know-
ledge and right reason already in him ? And this is most clearly shown
when he is taken to a diagram or to anything of that sort.

But if, said Socrates, you are still incredulous, Simmias, I would
ask you whether you may not agree with me when you look at the
matter in another way; — I mean, if you are still incredulous as to
whether knowledge is recollection?

Incredulous, I am not, said Simmias ; but I want to have this
doctrine of recollection brought to my own recollection, and, from
what Cebes has said, I am beginning to recollect and be convinced:
but I should still like to hear what more you have to say.

This is what I should say, he replied : — We should agree, if I am
not mistaken, that what a man recollects he must have known at some
previous time.

Very true.

And what is the nature of this recollection ? And, in asking this,
I mean to ask, whether when a person has already seen or heard or
in any way perceived anything, and he knows not only that, but some-
thing else of which he has not the same but another knowledge, we
may not fairly say that he recollects that which comes into his mind.
Are we agreed about that?

What do you mean?

I mean what I may illustrate by the following1 instance: — The

V 2-17

266 PLATO

knowledge of a lyre is not the same as the knowledge of a man?

True.

And yet what is the feeling of lovers when they recognize a lyre,
or a garment, or anything else which the beloved has been in the habit
of using ? Do not they, from knowing the lyre, form in the mind's eye
an image of the youth to whom the lyre belongs ? And this is recol-
lection: and in the same way any one who sees Simmias may re-
member Cebes ; and there are endless other things of the same nature.

Yes, indeed, there are, — endless, replied Simmias.

And this sort of thing, he said, is recollection, and is most com-
monly a process of recovering that which has been forgotten through
time and inattention.

Very true, he said.

Well ; and may you not also from seeing the picture of a horse
or a lyre remember a man? and from the picture of Simmias, you
may be led to remember Cebes ?

True.

Or you may also be led to the recollection of Simmias himself?

True, he said.

And in all these cases, the recollection may be derived from things
either like or unlife ?

That is true.

And when the recollection is derived from like things, then there
is sure to be another question, which is — whether the likeness of that
which is recollected is in any way defective or not?

Very true, he said.

And shall we proceed a step further, and affirm that there is such'
a thing as equality, not of wood with wood, or of stone with stone,
but that, over and above this, there is equality in the abstract ? Shall
we affirm this ?

Affirm, yes, and swear to it, replied Simmias, with all the confid-
ence in life.

And do we know the nature of this abstract essence?

To be sure, he said.

And whence did we obtain this knowledge? Did we not see
equalities of material things, such as pieces of wood and stones, and
gather from them the idea of an equality which is different from them ?
— you will admit that ? Or look at the matter again in this way : — Do
not the same pieces of wood or stone appear at one time equal, and
at another unequal?

PLATO 267

That is certain.

But are real equals ever unequal ? or is the idea of equality ever
inequality ?

That surely was never yet known, Socrates.

Then these (so-called) equals are not the same with the idea of
equality ?

I should say, clearly not, Socrates.

And yet from these equals, although differing from the idea of
equality, you conceived and attained that idea ?

Very true, he said.

Which might be like, or might be unlike them ?

Yes.

But that makes no difference : whenever from seeing one thing
you conceive another, whether like or unlike, there must surely have
been an act of recollection ?

Very true.

But what would you say of equal portions of wood and stone, or
other material equals? and what is the impression produced by them?
Are they equals in the same sense as absolute equality ? or do they fall
short of this in a measure ?

Yes, he said, in a very great measure too.

And must we not allow, that when I or any one look at any object,
and perceive that the object aims at being some other thing, but falls
short of, and cannot attain to it, — he who makes this observation must
have had a previous knowledge of that to which, as he says, the other,
although similar, was inferior?

Certainly.

And has not this been our own case in the matter of equals and
of absolute equality ?

Precisely.

Then we must have known absolute equality previously to the
time when we first saw the material equals, and reflected that all these
apparent equals aim at this absolute equality, but fall short of it?

That is true.

And we recognize also that this absolute equality has only been
known, and can only be known, through the medium of sight or touch,
or of some other sense. And this I would affirm of all such con-
ceptions.

Yes, Socrates, as far as the argument is concerned, one of them
is the same as the other.

268 PLATO

And from the senses then is derived the knowledge that all sensible
things aim at an idea of equality of which they fall short — is not that
true?

Yes.

Then before we began to see or hear or perceive in any way, we
must have had a knowledge of absolute equality, or we could not have
referred to that the equals which are derived from the senses? — for
to that they all aspire, and of that they fall short ?

That, Socrates, is certainly to be inferred from the previous state-
ments.

And did we not see and hear and acquire our other senses as soon
as we were born ?

Certainly.

Then we must have acquired the knowledge of the ideal equal at
some previous to this ?

Yes.

That is to say, before we were born, I suppose ?

True.

And if we acquired this knowledge before we were born, and were
born having it, we also knew before we were born and at the instant
of birth not only the equal or the greater or the less, but all other ideas ;
for we are not speaking only of equality absolute, but of beauty, good,
justice, holiness, and all which we stamp with the name of the essence
in the dialectical process, when we ask and answer questions. Of all
this we may certainly affirm that we acquired the knowledge before
birth.

That is true.

But if, after having acquired, we have not forgotten that which we
acquired, then we must always have been born with knowledge, and
shall always continue to know as long as life lasts — for knowing is the
acquiring and retaining knowledge and not forgetting. Is not for-
getting, Simmias, just the losing of knowledge ?

Quite true, Socrates.

But if the knowledge which we acquired before birth was lost by
us at birth, and if afterwards by the use of the senses we recovered
that which we previously knew, will not that which we call learning
be a process of recovering our knowledge, and may not this be rightly
termed recollection by us ?

Very true.

For this is clear — that when we perceived something, either by

PLATO 1269

the help of sight, or hearing, or some other sense, there was no diffi-
culty in receiving from this conception of some other thing like or
unlike which had been forgotten and which was associated with this ;
and therefore, as I was saying, one of two alternatives follows : — either
we had this knowledge at birth, and continued to know through life ;
or, after birth, those who are said to learn only remember, and learning
is recollection only.

Yes, that is quite true, Socrates.

And which alternative, Simmias, do you prefer? Had we the
knowledge at our birth, or did we remember afterwards the things
which we knew previously to our birth ?

I cannot decide at the moment.

At any rate you can decide whether he who has knowledge ought
or ought not to be able to give a reason for what he knows.

Certainly, he ought.

But do you think that every man is able to give a reason about
these very matters of which we are speaking?

I wish that they could , Socrates, but I greatly fear that to-morrow
at this time there will be no one able to give a reason worth having.

Then you are not of opinion, Simmias, that all men know these
things ?

Certainly not.

Then they are in process of recollecting that which they learned
before ?

Certainly.

But when did our souls acquire this knowledge? — not since we
were born as men?

Certainly not.

And therefore, previously?

Yes.

Then, Simmias, our souls must have existed before they were in
the form of man — without bodies, and must have had intelligence.

Unless indeed you suppose, Socrates, that these notions were
given us at the moment of birth ; for this is the only time that remains.

Yes, my friend, but when did we lose them ? for they are not in
us when we are born — that is admitted. Did we lose them at the
moment of receiving them, or at some other time ?

No, Socrates, I perceive that I was unconsciously talking non-
sense.

Then may we not say, Simmias, that if, as we are always repeating,

270 PLATO

there is an absolute beauty, and goodness, and essence in general, and
to this, which is now discovered to be a previous condition of our
being, we refer all our sensations, and with this compare them —
assuming this to have a prior existence, then our souls must have
had a prior existence, but if not, there would be no force in the argu-
ment. There can be no doubt that if these absolute ideas existed
before we were born, then our souls must have existed before we were
born, and if not the ideas, then not the souls.

Yes, Socrates; I am convinced that there is precisely the same
necessity for the existence of the soul before birth, and of the essence
of which you are speaking : and the argument arrives at a result which
happily agrees with my own notion. For there is nothing which to
my mind is so evident as that beauty, good, and other notions of
which you were just now speaking, have a most real and absolute
existence; and I am satisfied with the proof.

Well, but is Cebes equally satisfied ? for I must convince him too.

I think, said Simmias, that Cebes is satisfied : although he is the
most incredulous of mortals, yet I believe that he is convinced of the
existence of the soul before birth. But that after death the soul will
continue to exist is not yet proven even to my own satisfaction. I
cannot get rid of the feeling of the many to which Cebes was referring
— the feeling that when the man dies the soul may be scattered, and
that this may be the end of her. For admitting that she may be
generated and created in some other place, and may have existed
before entering the human body, why after having entered in and gone
out again may she not herself be destroyed and come to an end?

Very true, Simmias, said Cebes ; that our soul existed before we
were born was the first half of the argument, and this appears to have
been proven ; that the soul will exist after death as well as before birth
is the other half of which the proof is still wanting, and has to be
supplied:

But that proof, Simmias and Cebes, has been already given, said
Socrates, if you put the two arguments together — I mean this and
the former one, in which we admitted that everything living is born
of the dead. For if the soul existed before birth, and in coming to
life and being born can be born only from death and dying, must she
not after death continue to exist, since she has to be born again ? surely
the proof which you desire has been already furnished. Still I suspect
that you and Simmias would be glad to probe the argument further :
like children, you are haunted with a fear that when the soul leaves

PLATO 271

the body, the wind may really blow her away and scatter her ; espec-
ially if a man should happen to die in stormy weather and not when
the sky is calm.

Cebes answered with a smile : Then, Socrates, you must argue
us out of our fears — and yet, strictly speaking, they are not our fears,
but there is a child within us to whom death is a sort of hobgoblin ;
him too we must persuade not to be afraid when he is alone with him
in the dark.

Socrates said : Let the voice of the charmer be applied daily until
you have charmed him away.

And where shall we find a good charmer of our fears, Socrates,
when you are gone?

Hellas, he replied, is a large place, Cebes, and has many good
men, and there are barbarous races not a few: seek for him among
them all, far and wide, sparing neither pains nor money; for there
is no better way of using your money. And you must not forget to
seek for him among yourselves too ; for he is nowhere more likely
to be found.

The search, replied Cebes, shall certainly be made. And now,
if you please, let us return to the point of the argument at which we
digressed.

By all means, replied Socrates; what else should I please?

Very good, he said.

Must we not, said Socrates, ask ourselves some question of this
sort? — What is that which, as we imagine, is liable to be scattered
away, and about which we fear? and what again is that about which
we have no fear? And then we may proceed to inquire whether that
which suffers dispersion is or is not of the nature of soul — our hopes
and fears as to our own souls will turn upon that.

That is true, he said.

Now the compound or composite may be supposed to be naturally
capable of being dissolved in like manner as of being compounded;
but that which is uncompounded, and that only, must be, if anything
is, indissoluble.

Yes; that is what I should imagine, said Cebes.

And the uncompounded may be assumed to be the same and un-
changing, whereas the compound is always changing and never the
same?

That I also think, he said.

Then now let us return to the previous discussion. Is that idea

272 PLATO

or essence, which in the dialectical process we define as essence or
true existence — whether essence of equality, beauty, or anything else
— are these essences, I say, liable at times to some degree of change ?
or are they each of them always what they are, having the same simple
self-existent and unchanging forms, and not admitting of variation at
all, or in any way, or at any time ?

They must be always the same, Socrates, replied Cebes.

And what would you say of the many beautiful — whether men
or horses or garments or any other things which may be called equal
or beautiful, — are they all unchanging and the same always, or quite
the reverse? May they not rather be described as almost always
changing and hardly ever the same, either with themselves or with
one another?

The latter, replied Cebes ; they are always in a state of change.

And these you can touch and see and perceive with the senses,
but the unchanging things you can only perceive with the mind —
they are invisible and are not seen?

That is very true, he said.

Well then, he added, let us suppose that there are two sorts of
existences— one seen, the other unseen.

Let us suppose them.

The seen is the changing, and the unseen is the unchanging?

That may be also supposed.

And, further, is not one part of us body, and the rest of us soul ?

To be sure.

And to which class may we say that the body is more alike and
akin?

Clearly to the seen : no one can doubt that.

And is the soul seen or not seen ?

Not by man, Socrates.

And by 'seen' and 'not seen' is meant by us that which is or is
not visible to the eye of man?

Yes, to the eye of man.

And what do we say of the soul ? — is that seen or not seen ?

Not seen.

Unseen then?

Yes.

Then the soul is more like to the unseen, and the body to the seen?

That is most certain, Socrates.

And were we not saying long ago that the soul when using the

PLATO 273

body as an instrument of perception, that is to say, when using the
sense of sight or hearing or some other sense (or the meaning of
perceiving through the body is perceiving through the senses) — were
we not saying that the soul too is then dragged by the body into the
region of the changeable, and wanders and is confused; the world
spins round her, and she is like a drunkard when under their influ-
ence?

Very true.

But when returning into herself she reflects ; then she passes into
the realm of purity, and eternity, and immortality, and unchangeable-
ness, which are her kindred, and with them she ever lives, when she
is by herself and is not let or hindered; then she ceases from her
erring ways, and being in communion with the unchanging is un-
changing. And this state of the soul is called wisdom?

That is well and truly said, Socrates, he replied.

And to which class is the soul more nearly alike and akin, as far
as may be inferred from this argument, as well as from the preceding
one?

I think, Socrates, that, in the opinion of every one who follows
the argument, the soul will be infinitely more like the unchangeable
—even the most stupid person will not deny that.

And the body is more like the changing?

Yes.

Yet once more consider the matter in this light: When the soul
and the body are united, then nature orders the soul to rule and govern,
and the body to obey and serve. Now which of these two functions
is akin to the divine ? and which to the mortal ? Does not the divine
appear to you to be that which naturally orders and rules, and the
mortal that which is subject and servant?

True.

And which does the soul resemble?

The soul resembles the divine, and the body the mortal — there
can be no doubt of that, Socrates.

Then reflect, Cebes : is not the conclusion of the whole matter
this — that the soul is in the very likeness of the divine, and immortal,
and intelligible, and uniform, and indissoluble, and unchangeable;
and the body is in the very likeness of the human, and mortal, and
unintelligible, and multiform, and dissoluble, and changeable. Can
this, my dear Cebes, be denied?

No indeed.

274 PLATO

But if this is true, then is not the body liable to speedy dissolu-
tion? and is not the soul almost or altogether indissoluble?

Certainly.

And do you further observe, that after a man is dead, the body,
which is the visible part of man, and has a visible framework, which
is called a corpse, and which would naturally be dissolved and decom-
posed and dissipated, is not dissolved or decomposed at once, but
may remain for a good while, if the constitution be sound at the time
of death, and the season of the year favorable? For the body when
shrunk and embalmed, as is the custom in Egypt, may remain almost
entire through infinite ages ; and even in decay, still there are some
portions, such as the bones and ligaments, which are practically in-
destructible. You allow that?

Yes.

And are we to suppose that the soul, which is invisible, in passing
to the true Hades, which like her is invisible, and pure, and noble,
and on her way to the good and wise God, whither, if God will, my
soul is also soon to go, — that the soul, I repeat, if this be her nature
and origin, is blown away and perishes immediately on quitting the
body, as the many say ? That can never be, my dear Simmias and
Cebes. The truth rather is, that the soul which is pure at departing
draws after her no bodily taint, having never voluntarily had con-
nection with the body, which she is ever avoiding, herself gathered
into herself ; for such abstraction has been the study of her life. And
what does this mean but that she has been a true disciple of philosophy,
and has practised how to die easily ? And is not philosophy the prac-
tice of death ?

Certainly.

That soul, I say, herself invisible, departs to the invisible world —
to the divine and immortal and rational : thither arriving, she lives
in bliss and is released from the error and folly of men, their fears
and wild passions and all other human ills, and for ever dwells, as they
say of the initiated, in company with the gods? Is not this true, Cebes?

Yes, said Cebes, beyond a doubt.

But the soul which has been polluted, and is impure at the time
of her departure, and is the companion and servant of the body always,
and is in love with and fascinated by the body and by the desires and
pleasures of the body, until she is led to believe that the truth only
exists in a bodily form, which a man may touch and see and taste
and use for the purposes of his lusts, — the soul, I mean, accustomed

PLATO 275

to hate and fear and avoid the intellectual principle, which to the bodily
eye is dark and invisible, and can be attained only by philosophy; —
do you suppose that such a soul as this will depart pure and unalloyed ?

That is impossible, he replied.

She is engrossed by the corporeal, which the continual associa-
tion and constant care of the body have made natural to her.

Very true.

And this, my friend, may be conceived to be that heavy, weighty,
earthy element of sight by which such a soul is depressed and dragged
down again into the visible world, because she is afraid of the invisible
and of the world below; — prowling about tombs and sepulchres, in
the neighbourhood of which, as they tell us, are seen certain ghostly
apparitions of souls which have not departed pure, but are cloyed with
sight and therefore visible.

That is very likely, Socrates.

Yes, that is very likely, Cebes ; and these must be the souls, not
of the good, but of the evil, who are compelled to wander about such
places in payment of the penalty of their former evil way of life ; and
they continue to wander until the desire which haunts them is satisfied
and they are imprisoned in another body. And they may be sup-
posed to be fixed in the same natures which they had in their former
life.

What natures do you mean, Socrates ?

I mean to say that men who have followed after gluttony, and
wantonness, and drunkenness, and have had no thought of avoiding
them, would pass into asses and animals of that sort. What do you
think?

I think that exceedingly probable.

And those who have chosen the portion of injustice, and tyranny,
and violence, will pass into wolves, or hawks and kites ; — whither else
can we suppose them to go?

Yes, said Cebes; that is doubtless the place of natures such as
theirs.

And there is no difficulty, he said, in assigning to all of them places
answering to their several natures and propensities?

There is not, he said.

Even among them some are happier than others ; and the happiest
both in themselves and their place of abode are those who have prac-
tised the evil and social virtues which are called temperance and jus-
tice, and are acquired by habit and attention without philosophv and

27G PLATO

mind.

Why are they the happiest?

Because they may be expected to pass into some gentle social
nature which is like their own, such as that of bees or ants, or even
back again into the form of man, and just and moderate men spring
from them.

That is not impossible.

But he who is a philosopher or lover of learning, and is entirely
pure at departing, is alone permitted to reach the gods. And this
is the reason, Simmias and Cebes, why the true votaries of philosophy
abstain from all fleshly lusts, and endure and refuse to give them-
selves up to them, — not because they fear poverty or the ruin of their
families, like the lovers of money, and the world in general ; nor like
the lovers of power and honour, because they dread the dishonour or
disgrace of evil deeds.

No, Socrates, that would not become them, said Cebes.

No indeed, he replied; and therefore they who have a care of
their souls, and do not merely live in the fashions of the body, say
farewell to all this ; they will not walk in the ways of the blind : and
when philosophy offers them purification and release from evil, they
feel that they ought not to resist her influence, and to her they incline,
and whither she leads they follow her.

What do you mean, Socrates?

I will tell you, he said. The lovers of knowledge are conscious
that their souls when philosophy receives them, are simply fastened
and glued to their bodies : the soul is only able to view existence
through the bars of a prison, and not in her own nature ; she is wal-
lowing in the mire of all ignorance; and philosophy, seeing the ter-
rible nature of her confinement, and that the captive through desire
is led to conspire in her own captivity (for the lovers of knowledge
are aware that this was the original state of the soul, and that when
she was in this state philosophy received and gently counselled her,
and wanted to release her, pointing out to her that the eye is full of
deceit, and also the ear and the other senses, and persuading her to
retire from them in all but the necessary use of them, and to be gath-
ered up and collected into herself, and to trust only to herself and her
own intuitions of absolute existence, and mistrust that which comes
to her through others and is subject to vicissitude) — philosophy shows
her that this is visible and tangible, but that what she sees in her own
nature is intellectual and invisible. And the soul of the true philoso-

PLATO 277

pher thinks that she ought not to resist this deliverance, and there-
fore abstains from pleasures and desires and pains and fears, as far
as she is able ; reflecting that when a man has great joys or sorrows
or fears or desires, he suffers from them, not the sort of evil which
might be anticipated — as for example, the loss of his health or prop-
erty which he has sacrificed to his lusts — but he has suffered an evil
greater far, which is the greatest and worst of all evils, and one of
which he never thinks.

And what is that, Socrates ? said Cebes.

Why this : When the feeling of pleasure or pain in the soul is
most intense, all of us naturally suppose that the subject of this intense
feeling is then plainest and truest: but this is not the case.

Very true.

And this is the state in which the soul is most enthralled by the
body.

How is that ?

Why, because each pleasure and pain is a sort of nail which nails
and rivets the soul to the body, and engrosses her and makes her be-
lieve that to be true which the body affirms to be true; and from
agreeing with the body and having the same delights she is obliged
to have the same habits and ways, and is not likely ever to be pure
at her departure to the world below, but is always saturated with the
body ; so that she soon sinks into another body and there germinates
and grows, and has therefore no part in the communion of the divine
and pure and simple.

That is most true, Socrates, answered Cebes.

And this, Cebes, is the reason why the true lovers of knowledge
are temperate and brave ; and not for the reason which the world gives.

Certainly not.

Certainly not ! For not in that way does the soul of a philoso-
pher reason ; she will not ask philosophy to release her in order that
when released she may deliver herself up again to the thraldom of
pleasures and pains, doing a work only to be undone again, weaving
instead of unweaving her Penelope's web. But she will make her-
self a calm of passion, and follow reason, and dwell in her, beholding
the true and divine (which is not matter of opinion), and thence derive
nourishment. Thus she seeks to live while she lives, and after death
she hopes to go to her own kindred and to be freed from human ills.
Never fear, Simmias and Cebes, that a soul which has been thus nur-
tured and has had these pursuits, will at her departure from the body

278 PLATO

be scattered and blown away by the winds and be nowhere and nothing.

When Socrates had done speaking, for a considerable time there
was silence ; he himself and most of us appeared to be meditating on
what had been said; only Cebes and Simmias spoke a few words to
one another. And Socrates observing this asked them what they
thought of the argument, and whether there was anything wanting?
For, said he, much is still open to suspicion and attack, if anyone were
disposed to sift the matter thoroughly. If you are talking of some-
thing else I would rather not interrupt you, but if you are still doubt-
ful about the argument do not hesitate to say exactly what you think,
and let us have anything better which you can suggest ; and if I am
likely to be of any use, allow me to help you.

Simmias said : I must confess, Socrates, that doubts did arise in
our minds, and each of us was urging and inciting the other to put
the question which we wanted to have answered and which neither of
us liked to ask, fearing that our importunity might be troublesome
under present circumstances.

Socrates smiled, and said : O Simmias, how strange that is ; I am
not very likely to persuade other men that I do not regard my present
situation as a misfortune, if I am unable to persuade you, and you will
keep fancying that I am at all more troubled now than at any other
' time. Will you not allow that I have as much of the spirit of prophecy
in me as the swans? For they, when they perceive that they must
die, having sung all their life long, do then sing more than ever, re-
joicing in the thought that they are about to go away to the god whose
ministers they are. But men, because they are themselves afraid of
death, slanderously affirm of the swans that they sing a lament at the
last, not considering that no bird sings when cold, or hungry, or in
pain, not even the nightingale, nor the swallow, nor yet the hoopoe;
which are said indeed to fune a lay of sorrow, although I do not be-
lieve this to be true of them any more than of the swans. But because
they are sacred to Apollo, and have the gift of prophecy, and antici-
pate the good things of another world, therefore they sing and rejoice
in that day more than ever they did before. And I too, believing
myself to be the consecrated servant of the same God, and the fellow-
servant of the swans, and thinking that I have received from my mas-
ter gifts of prophecy which are not inferior to theirs, would not go
out of life less merrily than the swans. Cease to mind then about
this, but speak and ask anything which you like, while the eleven
magistrates of Athens allow.

PLATO 279

Well, Socrates, said Simmias, then I will tell you my difficulty,
and Cebes will tell you his. For I dare say that you, Socrates, feel
as I do, how very hard or almost impossible is the attainment of any
certainty about questions such as these in the present life. And yet
I should deem him a coward who did not prove what is said about
them to the uttermost, or whose heart failed him before he had ex-
amined them on every side. For he should persevere until he has at-
tained one of two things : either he should discover or learn the truth
about them ; or, if this is impossible, I would have him take the best
and most irrefragable of human notions, and let this be the raft upon
which he sails through life — not without risk, I admit, if he cannot find
some word of God which will more surely and safely carry him. And
now, as you bid me, I will venture to question you, as I should not
like to reproach myself hereafter with not having said at the time what
I think. For when I consider the matter, either alone or with Cebes,
the argument does certainly appear to me, Socrates, to be not sufficient.

Socrates answered : I dare say, my friend, that you may be right,
but I should like to know in what respect the argument is not sufficient.

In this respect, replied Simmias : — might not a person use the
same argument about harmony and the lyre — might he not say that
harmony is a thing invisible, incorporeal, fair, divine, abiding in the
lyre which is harmonized, but that the lyre and the strings are matter
and material, composite, earthy, and akin to mortality? And when
some one breaks the lyre, or cuts and rends the strings, then he who
takes this view would argue as you do, and on the same analogy, that
the harmony survives and has not perished ; for you cannot imagine,
as he would say, that the lyre without the strings, and the broken
strings themselves remain, and yet that the harmony, which is of heav-
enly and immortal nature and kindred, has perished — and perished
too before the mortal. That harmony, he would say, certainly exists
somewhere, and the wood and strings will decay before that decays.
For I suspect, Socrates, that the notion of the soul which we are all
of us inclined to entertain, would also be yours, and that you too would
conceive the body to be strung up, and held together, by the elements
of hot and cold, wet and dry, and the like, and that the soul is the
harmony or due proportionate admixture of them. And, if this is
true, the inference clearly is, that when the strings of the body are
unduly loosened or overstrained through disorder or other injury, then
the soul, though most divine, like other harmonies of music or of
works of art, of course perishes at once ; although the material remains

280 PLATO

of the body may last for a considerable time, until they are either
decayed or burnt. Now if any one maintained that the soul, being the
harmony of the elements of the body, first perishes in that which is
called death, how shall we answer him ?

Socrates looked round at us as his manner was, and said with a
smile : Simmias has reason on his side ; and why does not some one
of you who is abler than myself answer him ? for there is force in his
attack upon me. But perhaps, before we answer him, we had better
also hear what Cebes has to say against the argument — this will give
us time for reflection, and when both of them have spoken, we may
either assent to them, if their words appear to be in consonance with
the truth, or if not, we may take up the other side, and argue with
them. Please to tell me then, Cebes, he said, what was the difficulty
which troubled you?

Cebes said : I will tell you. My feeling is that the argument is
still in the same position, and open to the same objections which
were urged before ; for I am ready to admit that the existence of the
soul before entering into the bodily form has been very ingeniously,
and, as I may be allowed to say, quite sufficiently proven ; but the
existence of the soul after death is still, in my judgment, unproven.
Now my objection is not the same as that of Simmias ; for I am not
'disposed to deny that the soul is stronger and more lasting than the
body, being of opinion that in all such respects the soul very far excels
the body. Well then, says the argument to me, why do you remain
unconvinced ? — When you see that the weaker is still in existence after
the man is dead, will you not admit that the more lasting must also
survive during the same period of time? Now I, like Simmias, must
employ a figure ; and I shall ask you to consider whether the figure
is to the point. The parallel which I will suppose is that of an old
weaver, who dies, and after his death somebody says : — He is not dead,
he must be alive ; and he appeals to the coat which he himself wove
and wore, and which is still whole and undecayed. And then he pro-
ceeds to ask of some one who is incredulous, whether a man lasts
longer, or the coat which is in use and wear ; and when he is answered
that a man lasts far longer, thinks that he has thus certainly demon-
strated the survival of the man, who is the more lasting, because the
less lasting remains. But that, Simmias, as I would beg you to ob-
serve, is not the truth ; every one sees that he who talks thus is talking
nonsense. For the truth is, that this weaver, having worn and woven
many such coats, though he outlived several of them, was himself out-

PLATO 281

lived by the last ; but this is surely very far from proving that a man
is slighter and weaker than a coat. Now the relation of the body to
the soul may be expressed in a similar figure ; for you may say with
reason that the soul is lasting, and the body weak and shortlived in
comparison. And every soul may be said to wear out many bodies,
especially in the course of a long life. For if while the man is alive
the body deliquesces and decays, and yet the soul always weaves her
garment anew and repairs the waste, then of course, when the soul
perishes, she must have on her last garment, and this only will sur-
vive her ; but then again, when the soul is dead, the body will at last
show its native weakness, and soon pass into decay. And therefore
this is an argument on which I would rather not rely as proving that
the soul exists after death. For suppose that we grant even more
than you affirm as within the range of possibility, and besides acknow-
ledging that the soul existed before birth, admit also that after death
the souls of some are existing still, and will exist, and will be born
and die again and again, and that there is a natural strength in the
soul which will hold out and be born many times — for all this, we
may be still inclined to think that she will weary in the labours of
successive births, and may at last succumb in one of her deaths and
utterly perish ; and this death and dissolution of the body which brings
destruction to the soul may be unknown to any of us, for no one of
us can have had any experience of it : and if this be true, then I say
that he who is confident in death has but a foolish confidence, unless
he is able to prove that the soul is altogether immortal and imperish-
able. But if he is not able to prove this, he who is about to die will
always have reason to fear that when the body is disunited, the soul
also may utterly perish.

All of us, as we afterwards remarked to one another, had an un-
pleasant feeling at hearing them say this. When we had been so
firmly convinced before, now to have our faith shaken seemed to in-
troduce a confusion and uncertainty, not only into the previous argu-
ment, but into any future one; either we were not good judges, or
there were no real grounds of belief.

Ech. There I feel with you — indeed I do, Phaedo, and when you
were speaking, I was beginning to ask myself the same question:
What argument can I ever trust again? For what could be more
convincing than the argument of Socrates, which has now fallen into
discredit? That the soul is a harmony is a doctrine which has always
had a wonderful attraction for me, and, when mentioned, came back

2-18

282 PLATO

to me at once, as my own original conviction. And now I must
begin again and find another argument which will assure me that when
the man is dead the soul dies not with him. Tell me, I beg, how did
Socrates proceed? Did he appear to share the unpleasant feeling
which you mention? or did he receive the interruption calmly and
give a sufficient answer ? Tell us, as exactly as you can, what passed.

Phaed. Often, Echecrates, as I have admired Socrates, I never
admired him more than at that moment. That he should be able to
answer was nothing, but what astonished me was, first, the gentle and
pleasant and approving manner in which he regarded the words of the
young men, and then his quick sense of the wound which had been
inflicted by the argument, and his ready application of the healing art.
He might be compared to a general rallying his defeated and broken
army, urging them to follow him and return to the field of argument.

Ech. How was that?

Phaed. You shall hear, for I was close to him on his right hand,
seated on a sort of stool, and he on a couch which was a good deal
higher. Now he had a way of playing with my hair, and then he
smoothed my head, and pressed the hair upon my neck, and said : —
To-morrow, Phaedo, I suppose that these fair locks of yours will be
severed.

Yes, Socrates, I suppose that they will, I replied.

Not so, if you will take my advice.

What shall I do with them ? I said.

To-day, he replied, and not to-morrow, if this argument dies and
cannot be brought to life again by us, you and I will both shave our
locks : and if I were you, and could not maintain my ground against
Simmias and Cebes, I would myself take an oath, like the Argives,
not to wear hair any more until I had renewed the conflict and defeated
them.

Yes, I said ; but Heracles himself is said not to be a match for two.

Summon me then, he said, and I will be your lolaus until the sun
goes down.

I summon you rather, I said, not as Heracles summoning lolaus,
but as lolaus might summon Heracles.

That will be all the same, he said. But first let us take care that
we avoid a danger.

And what is that? I said.

The danger of becoming misologists, he replied, which is one of
the very worst things that can happen to us. For as there are mis-

PLATO 283

anthropists or haters of men, there are also misologists Of haters of
ideas, and both spring from the same cause, which is ignorance of
the world. Misanthropy arises from the too great confidence of in-
experience ; — you trust a man and think him altogether true and good
faithful, and then in a little while he turns out to false and knavish;
and then another and another, and when this has happened several
times to a man, especially within the circle of his own most trusted
friends, as he deems them, and he has often quarrelled with them, he
at last hates all men, and believes that no one has any good in him at
all. I dare say that you must have observed this.

Yes, I said.

And is not this discreditable ? The reason is, that a man, having
to deal with other men, has no knowledge of them ; for if he had know-
ledge, he would have known the true state of the case, that few are
the good and few the evil, and that the great majority are in the in-
terval between them.

How do you mean ? I said.

I mean, he replied, as you might say of the very large and very
small — that nothing is more uncommon than a very large or very small
man ; and this applies generally to all extremes, whether of great and
small, or swift and slow, or fair and foul, or black and white: and
whether the instances you select be men or dogs or anything else, few
are the extremes, but many are in the mean between them. Did you
never observe this ?

Yes, I said, I have.

And do you not imagine, he said, that if there were a competition
of evil, the first in evil would be found to be very few?

Yes, that is very likely, I said.

Yes, that is very likely, he replied ; not that in this respect argu-
ments are like men — there I was led on by you to say more than I
had intended; but the point. of comparison was, that when a simple
man who has no skill in dialectics believes an argument to be true
which he afterwards imagines to be false, whether really false or not,
and then another and another, he has no longer any faith left, and
great disputers, as you know, come to think at last that they have
grown to be the wisest of mankind ; for they alone perceive the utter
unsoundness and instability of all arguments, or indeed, of all things,
which, like the currents in the Euripus, are going up and down in
never-ceasing ebb and flow.

Yes, Phaedo, he replied, and very melancholy too, if there be

284 PLATO

such a thing as truth or certainty or power of knowing at all, that
a man should have lighted upon some argument or other which at
first seemed true and then turned out to be false, and instead of blaming
himself and his own want of wit, because he is annoyed, shouM at last
be too glad to transfer the blame from himself to arguments in general ;
and for ever afterwards should hate and revile them, and lose the truth
and knowledge of existence.

Yes, indeed, I said ; that is very melancholy.

Let us then, in the first place, he said, be careful of admitting
into our souls the notion that there is no truth or health or soundness
in any arguments at all ; but let us rather say that there is as yet no
health in us, and that we must quit ourselves like men and do our best
to gain health — you and all other men with a view to the whole of
your future life, and I myself with a view to death. For at this
moment I am sensible that I have not the temper of a philosopher:
like the vulgar, I am only a partisan. For the partisan, when he is
engaged in a dispute, cares nothing about the rights of the question,
but is anxious only to convince his hearers of his own assertion. And
the difference between him and me at the present moment is only this —
that whereas he seeks to convince his hearers that what he says is true,
I am rather seeking to convince myself ; to convince my hearers is a
secondary matter with me. And do but see how much I gain by this.
For if what I say is true, then I do well to be persuaded of the truth ;
but if there be nothing after death, still, during the short time that
remains, I shall save my friends from lamentations, and my ignorance
will not last, and therefore no harm will be done. This is the state
of mind, Simmias and Cebes, in which I approach the argument. And
I would ask you to be thinking of the truth and not of Socrates : agree
with me, if I seem to you to be speaking the truth ; or if not, withstand
rne might and main, that I may not deceive you as well as myself in
my enthusiasm, and like the bee, leave my sting in you before I die.

And now let us proceed, he said. And first of all let me be sure
that I have in my mind what you were saying. Simmias, if I remem-
ber rightly, has fears and misgivings whether the soul, being in the
form of harmony, although a fairer and diviner thing than the body,
may not perish first. On the other hand, Cebes appeared to grant
that the soul was more lasting than the body, but he said that no one
could know whether the soul, after having worn out many bodies,
might not perish herself and leave her last body behind her ; and that
this is death, which is the destruction not of the body but of the soul,

PLATO 285

for in the body the work of destruction is ever going on. Are not
these, Simmias and Cebes, the points which we have to consider?

They both agreed to this statement of them.

He proceeded : And did you deny the force of the whole pre-
ceding argument, or of a part only?

Of a part only, they replied.

And what did you think, he said, of that part of the argument in
which we said that knowledge was recollection only, and inferred
from this that the soul must have previously existed somewhere else
before she was enclosed in the body? Cebes said that he had been
wonderfully impressed by that part of the argument, and that his con-
viction remained unshaken. Simmias agreed, and added that he him-
self could hardly imagine the possibility of his ever thinking differently
about that.

But, rejoined Socrates, you will have to think differently, my
Theban friend, if you still maintain that harmony is a compound, and
that the soul is a harmony which is made out of strings set in the frame
of the body; for you will surely never allow yourself to say that a
harmony is prior to the elements which compose the harmony.

No, Socrates, that is impossible.

But do you not see that you are saying this when you say that the
soul existed before she took the form and body of man, and was made
up of elements which as yet had no existence? For harmony is not
a sort of thing like the soul, as you suppose ; but first the lyre, and
the strings, and the sounds exist in a state of discord, and then har-
mony is made last of all, and perishes first. And how can such a
notion of the soul as this agree with the other ?

Not at all, replied Simmias.

And yet, he said, there surely ought to be harmony when harmony
is the theme of discourse.

There ought, replied Simmias.

But there is no harmony, he said, in the two propositions that
knowledge is recollection, and that the soul is a harmony. Which
of them then will you retain ?

I think, he replied, that I have a much stronger faith, Socrates,
in the first of the two, which has been fully demonstrated to me, than
in the latter, which has not been demonstrated at all, but rests only
on probable and plausible grounds; and I know too well that these
arguments from probabilities are impostors, and unless great caution
is observed in the use of them, they are apt to be deceptive — in geom-

286 PLATO

etry, and in other things too. But the doctrine of knowledge and
recollection has been proven to me on trustworthy grounds ; and the
proof was that the soul must have existed before she came into the
body, because to her belongs the essence of which the very name
implies existence. Having, as I am convinced, rightly accepted this
conclusion, and on sufficient grounds, I must, as I suppose, cease to
argue or allow others to argue that the soul is a harmony.

Let me put the matter, Simmias, he said, in another point of view :
Do you imagine that a harmony or any other composition can be in
a state other than that of the elements, out of which it is compounded ?

Certainly not.

Or do or suffer anything other than they do or suffer?
He agreed.

Then a harmony does not lead the parts or elements which make
up the harmony, but only follows them.

He assented.

For harmony cannot possibly have any motion, or sound, or other
quality which is opposed to the parts.

That would be impossible, he replied.

And does not every harmony depend upon the manner in which
the elements are harmonized?

I do not understand you, he said.

I mean to say that a harmony admits of degrees, and is more of
a harmony, and more completely a harmony, when more completely
harmonized, if that be possible ; and less of a harmony, and less com-
pletely a harmony, when less harmonized .

True.

But does the soul admit of degrees ? or is one soul in the very least
degree more or less, or more or less completely, a soul than another?

Not in the least.

Yet surely one soul is said to have intelligence and virtue, and
to be good, and another soul is said to have folly and vice, and to be
an evil soul : and this is said truly ?

Yes, truly.

But what will those who maintain the soul to be a harmony say
of this presence of virtue and vice in the soul ? — will they say that here
is another harmony, and another discord, and that the virtuous soul
is harmonized, and herself being harmony has another harmony within
her, and that the vicious soul is inharmonical and has no harmony
within her?

PLATO 287

I cannot say, replied Simmias ; but I suppose that something of
that kind would be asserted by those who take this view.

And the admission is already made that no soul is more a soul than
another ; and this is equivalent to admitting that harmony is not more
or less harmony, or more or less completely a harmony?

Quite true.

And that which is not more or less a harmony is not more or less
harmonized ?

True.

And that which is not more or less harmonized cannot have more
or less of harmony, but only an equal harmony?

Yes, an equal harmony.

Then one soul not being more or less absolutely a soul than anoth-
er, is not more or less harmonized?

Exactly.

And therefore has neither more nor less of harmony or of discord ?

She has not.

And having neither more nor less of harmony or of discord, one
soul has no more vice or virtue than another, if vice be discord and
virtue harmony?

Not at all more.

Or speaking more correctly, Simmias, the soul, if she is a har-
mony, will never have any vice ; because a harmony, being absolutely
a harmony, has no part in the inharmonical.

No.

And therefore a soul which is absolutely a soul has no vice?

How can she have, consistently with the preceding argument?

Then, according to this, if the souls of all animals are equally and
absolutely souls, they will be equally good?

I agree with you, Socrates, he said.

And can all this be true, think you? he said; and are all these
consequences admissible — which nevertheless seem to follow from the
assumption that the soul is a harmony?

Certainly not, he said.

Once more, he said, what ruling principle is tHere of human
things other than the soul, and especially the wise soul? Do you
know of any ?

Indeed, I do not.

And is the soul in agreement with the affections of the body?
or is she at variance with them? For example, when the body is hot

288 PLATO

and thirsty, does not the soul incline us against drinking? and when

the body is hungry, against eating? And this is only one instance

out of ten thousand of the opposition of the soul to the things of the

body.

Very true.

But we have already acknowledged that the soul, being a har-
mony, can never utter a note at variance with the tensions and relaxa-
tions and vibrations and other affections of the strings out of which
she is composed ; she can only follow, she cannot lead them ?

Yes, he said, we acknowledged that, certainly.

And yet do we not now discover the soul to be doing the exact
opposite — leading the elements of which she is believed to be com-
posed ; almost always opposing and coercing them in all sorts of ways
throughout life, sometimes more violently with the pains of medicine
and gymnastic ; then again more gently ; — threatening and also rep-
rimanding the desires, passions, fears, as if talking to a thing which
is not herself, as Homer in the Odyssee represents Odysseus doing
in the words : —

'He beat his breast, and thus reproached his heart:
Endure, my heart; far worse hast thou endured!'

Do you think that Homer could have written this under the idea that
the soul is a harmony capable of being led by the affections of the
body, and not rather of a nature which leads and masters them ; and
herself a far diviner thing than any harmony?

Yes, Socrates, I quite agree to that.

Then, my friend, we can never be right in saying that the soul is
a harmony, for that would clearly contradict the divine Homer as well
as ourselves.

True, he said.

Thus much, said Socrates, of Harmonia, your Theban goddess,
Cebes, who has not been ungracious to us, I think ; but what shall
I say to the Theban Cadmus, and how shall I propitiate him?

I think that you will discover a way of propitiating him, said
Cebes ; I am sure that you have answered the argument about har-
mony in a manner that I could never have expected. For when Sim-
mias mentioned his objection, I quite imagined that no answer could
be given to him, and therefore I was surprised at finding that his
argument could not sustain the first onset of yours, and not impos-
sibly the other, whom you call Cadmus, may share a similar fate.

PLATO 289

Nay, my good friend, said Socrates, let us not boast, lest some
evil eye should put to flight the word which I am about to speak.
That, however, may be left in the hands of those above ; while I draw
near in Homeric fashion, and try the mettle of your words. Briefly,
the sum of your objection is as follows : — You want to have proven
to you that the soul is imperishable and immortal, and you think that
the philosopher who is confident in death has but a vain and foolish
confidence, if he thinks that he will fare better than one who has led
another sort of life, in the world below, unless he can prove this : and
you say that the demonstration of the strength and divinity of the
soul, and of her existence prior to our becoming men, does not nec-
essarily imply her immortality. Granting that the soul is longlived,
and has known and done much in a former state, still she is not on
that account immortal; and her entrance into the human form may
be a sort of disease which is the beginning of dissolution, and may
at last, after the toils of life are over, end in that which is called death.
And whether the soul enters into the body once only or many times,
that, as you would say, makes no difference in the fears of individuals.
For any man, who is not devoid of natural feeling, has reason to fear,
if he has no knowledge or proof of the soul's immortality. That is
what I suppose you to say, Cebes, which I designedly repeat, in order
that nothing may escape us, and that you may, if you wish, add or
subtract nothing.

But, said Cebes, as far as I see at present, I have nothing to add
or subtract; you have expressed my meaning.

Socrates paused awhile, and seemed to be absorbed in reflection.
At length he said : This is a very serious enquiry which you are rais-
ing, Cebes, involving the whole question of generation and corrup-
tion, about which I will, if you like, give you my own experience;
and you can apply this, if you think that anything which I say will
avail towards the solution of your difficulty.

I should very much like, said Cebes, to hear what you have to
say.

Then I will tell you, said Socrates. When I was young, Cebes,
I had a prodigious desire to know that department of philosophy
which is called Natural Science; this appeared to me to have lofty
aims, as being the science which has to do with the causes of things,
and which teaches why a thing is, and is created and destroyed ; and
I was always agitating myself with the consideration of such ques-
tions as these: — Is the growth of animals the result of some decay

290 PLATO

which the hot and cold principle contract, as some have said? Is
the blood the element with which we think, or the air, or the fire?
or perhaps nothing of this sort — but the brain may be the originating
power of the perceptions of hearing and sight and smell, and memory
and opinion may come from them, and science may be based on mem-
ory and opinion when no longer in motion, but at rest. And then
I went on to examine the decay of them, and then to the things of
heaven and earth, and at last I concluded that I was wholly incapable
of these inquiries, as I will satisfactorily prove to you. For I was
fascinated by them to such a degree that my eyes grew blind to things
that I had seemed to myself, and also to others, to know quite well ;
and I forgot what I had before thought to be self-evident, that the
growth of man is the result of eating and drinking ; for when by the
digestion of food flesh is added to flesh and bone to bone, and when-
ever there is an aggregation of congenial elements, the lesser bulk
becomes larger and the small man greater. Was not that a reason-
able notion?

Yes, said Cebes, I think so.

Well; but let me tell you something more. There was a time
when I thought that I understood the meaning of greater and less
pretty well ; and when I saw a great man standing by a little one, I
fancied that one was taller than the other by a head ; and still more
clearly did I seem to perceive that ten is two more than eight, and
that two cubits are more than one, because two is twice one.

And what is now your notion of such matters? said Cebes.

I should be far enough from imagining, he replied, that I knew
the cause of any of them, indeed I should, for I cannot satisfy myself
that when one is added to one, the one to which the addition is made
becomes two, or that the two units added together make two by reason
of the addition. For I cannot understand how, when separated from
the other, each of them was one and not two, and now, when they are
brought together, the mere juxtaposition of them can be the cause
of their becoming two : nor can I understand how the division of one
is the way to make two; for then a different cause would produce
the same effect, — as in the former instance the addition and juxta-
position of one to one was the cause of two, in this the separation and
subtraction of one from the other would be the cause. Nor am I any
longer satisfied that I understand the reason why one or anything
else either is generated or destroyed or is at all, but I have in my mind
some confused notion of another method, and can never admit this.

PLATO 291

Then I heard some one who had a book of Anaxagoras, as he
said, out of which he read that mind was the disposer and cause of
all, and I was quite delighted at the notion of this, which appeared
admirable, and I said to myself: If mind is the disposer, mind will
dispose all for the best, and put each particular in the best place ; and
I argued that if any one desired to find out the cause of the genera-
tion or destruction or existence of anything, he must find out what
state of being or suffering or doing was best for that thing, and there-
fore a man had only to consider the best for himself and others, and
then he would also know the worse, for that the same science com-
prised both. And I rejoiced to think that I had found in Anaxagoras
a teacher of the causes of existence such as I desired, and I imagined
that he would tell me first whether the earth is flat or round; and
then he would further explain the cause and the necessity of this, and
would teach me the nature of the best and show that this was best;
and if he said that the earth was in the centre, he would explain that
this position was the best, and I should be satisfied if this were shown
to me, and not want any other sort of cause. And I thought that I
would then go on and ask him about the sun and moon and stars,
and that he would explain to me their comparative swiftness, and
their returnings and various states, and how their several affections,
active and passive, were all for the best. For I could not imagine
that when he spoke of mind as the disposer of them, he would give
any other account of their being as they are, except that this was
best; and I thought that when he had explained to me in detail the
cause of each and the cause of all, he would go on to explain to me
what was best for each and what was best for all. I had hopes which
I would not have sold for much, and I seized the books and read them
as fast as I could in my eargerness to know the better and the worse.

What hopes I had formed, and how grievously was I disap-
pointed! As I proceeded, I found my philosopher altogether for-
saking mind or any other principle of order, but having recourse to
air, and ether, and water, and other eccentricities. I might compare
him to a person who began by maintaining generally that mind is
the cause of the actions of Socrates, but who, when he endeavoured
to explain the causes of my several actions in detail, went on to show
that I sit here because my body is made up of bones and muscles;
and the bones, as he would say, are hard and have ligaments which
divide them, and the muscles are elastic, and they cover the bones,
which have also a covering or environment of flesh and skin which

292 PLATO

contains them ; and as the bones are lifted at their joints by the con-
traction or relaxation of the muscles, I am able to bend my limbs,
and this is why I am sitting here in a curved posture ; — that is what
he would say, and he would have a similar explanation of my talking
to you, which he would attribute to sound, and air, and hearing, and
he would assign ten thousand other causes of the same sort, forget-
ting to mention the true cause, which is, that the Athenians have
thought fit to condemn me, and accordingly I have thought it better
and more right to remain here and undergo my sentence ; for I am
inclined to think that these muscles and bones of mine would have
gone off to Megara or Boeotia — by the dog of Egypt they would, if
they had been guided only by their own idea of what was best, and
if I had not chosen as the better and nobler part, instead of playing
truant and running away, to undergo any punishment which the stac^
inflicts. There is surely a strange confusion of causes and condi-
tions in all this. It may be said, indeed, that without bones and
muscles and the other parts of the body I cannot execute my purposes.
But to say that I do as I do because of them, and that this is the way
in which mind acts, and not from the choice of the best, is a very care-
less and idle mode of speaking. I wonder that they cannot distin-
guish the cause from the condition, which the many, feeling about in
the dark, are always mistaking and misnaming. And thus one man
makes, a vortex all round and steadies the earth by the heaven ; an-
other gives the air as a support to the earth, which is a sort of broad
trough. Any power which in disposing them as they are disposes
them for the best never enters into their minds, nor do they imagine
that there is any superhuman strength in that; they rather expect
to find another Atlas of the world who is stronger and more everlast-
ing and more containing than the good is, and are clearly of opinion
that the obligatory and containing power of the good is as nothing;
and yet this is the principle which I would fain learn if any one would
teach me. But as I have failed either to discover myself, or to learn
of any one else, the nature of the best, I will exhibit to you, if you like,
what I have found to be the second best mode of inquiring into the
cause.

I should very much like to hear that, he replied.

Socrates proceeded: — I thought that as I had failed in the con-
templation of true existence, I ought to be careful that I did not lose
the eye of my soul ; as people may injure their bodily eye by observ-
ing and gazing on the sun during an eclipse, unless they take the

PLATO 293

precaution of only looking at the image reflected in the water, or in
some similar medium. That occurred to me, and I wa.s afraid that
my soul might be blinded altogether if I looked at things with my
eyes or tried by the help of the senses to apprehend them. And I
thought that I had better have recourse to ideas, and seek in them
the truth of existence. I dare say that the simile is not perfect — for
I am very far from admitting that he who contemplates existences
through the medium of ideas, sees them only 'through a glass darkly,'
any more than he who sees them in their working and effects. How-
ever, this was the method which I adopted: I first assumed some
principle which I judged to be the strongest, and then I affirmed as
true whatever seemed to agree with this, whether relating to the cause
or to anything else ; and that which disagreed I regarded as untrue.
But I should like to explain my meaning clearly, as I do not think
that you understand me.

No indeed, replied Cebes, not very well.

There is nothing new, he said, in what I am about to tell you;
but only what I have been always and everywhere repeating in the
previous discussion and on other occasions : I want to show you the
nature of that cause which has occupied my thoughts, and I shall
have to go back to those familiar words which are in the mouth oi
every one, and first of all assume that there is an absolute beauty
and goodness, and greatness, and the like ; grant me this, and I hope
to be able to show you the nature of the cause, and to prove the im-
mortality of the soul.

Cebes said : You may proceed at once with the proof, as I readily
grant you this.

Well, he said, then I should like to know whether you agree
with me in the next step ; for I cannot help thinking that if there be
anything beautiful other than absolute beauty, that can only be beau-
tiful in as far as it partakes of absolute beauty — and this I should
say of everything. Do you agree in this notion of the cause?
Yes, he said, I agree.

He proceeded : I know nothing and can understand nothing of
any other of those wise causes which are alleged ; and if a person says
to me that the bloom of colour, or form, or anything else of that sort
is a source of beauty, I leave all that, which is only confusing to me,
and simply and singly, and perhaps foolishly, hold and am assured
in my own mind that nothing makes a thing beautiful but the presence
and participation of beauty in whatever way or manner obtained ; for

294 PLATO

as to the manner I am uncertain, but I stoutly contend that by beauty
all beautiful things become beautiful. That appears to me to be the
only safe answer that I can give, either to myself or to any other, and
to that I cling, in the persuasion that I shall never be overthrown,
and that I may safely answer to myself or any other, that by beauty
beautiful things become beautiful. Do you not agree to that?

Yes, I agree.

And that by greatness only great things become great and greater:
greater, and by smallness the less become less.

True.

Then if a person remarks that A is taller by a head than B, and
B less by a head than A, you would refuse to admit this, and would
stoutly contend that what you mean is only that the greater is greater
by, and by reason of, smallness ; and thus you would avoid the danger
of saying that the greater is greater and the less less by the measure
of the head, which is the same in both, and would also avoid the mon-
strous absurdity of supposing that the greater man is greater by rea-
son of the head, which is small. Would you not be afraid of that?

Indeed, I should, said Cebes, laughing.

In like manner you would be afraid to say that ten exceeded eight
by, and by reason of, two; but would say by, and by reason of,
number ; or that two cubits exceed one cubit by a half, but by mag-
nitude ? — that is what you would say, for there is the same danger in
both cases.

Very true, he said.

Again, would you not be cautious of affirming that the addition
of one to one, or the division of one, is the cause of two? And you
would loudly asseverate that you know of no way in which anything
comes into existence except by participation in its own proper essence,
and consequently, as far as you know, the only cause of two is the
participation in quality; that is, the way to make two, and the par-
ticipation in one is the way to make one. You would say : I will
let alone puzzles of division and addition — wiser heads than mine may
answer them; inexperienced as I am, and ready to start, as the pro-
verb says, at my own shadow, I cannot afford to give up the sure
ground of a principle. And if any one assails you there, you would
not mind him, or answer him, until you had seen whether the con-
sequences which follow agree with one another or not, and when you
are further required to give an explanation of this principle, you would
go on to assume a higher principle, and the best of the higher ones

PLATO 295

until you found a resting-place ; but you would not confuse the prin-
ciple and the consequences in your reasoning, like the Eristics — at
least if you wanted to discover real existence. Not that this con-
fusion signifies to them who never care or think about the matter
at all, for they have the wit to be well pleased with themselves how-
ever great may be the turmoil of their ideas. But you, if you are a
philosopher, will, I believe, do as I say.

What you say is most true, said Simmias and Cebes, both speak-
ing at once.

Ech. Yes, Phaedo ; and I don't wonder at their assenting. Any
one who has the least sense will acknowledge the wonderful clearness
of Socrates' reasoning.

Phaed. Certainly, Echecrates; and that was the feeling of the
whole company at the time.

Ech. Yes, and equally of ourselves, who were not of the com-
pany, and are now listening to your recital. But what followed?

Phaed. After all this was admitted, and they had agreed about
the existence of ideas and the participation in them of the other things
which derive their names from them, Socrates, if I remember rightly,
said : —

This is your way of speaking; and yet when you say that Sim-
mias is greater than Socrates and less than Phaedo, do you not predi-
cate of Simmias both greatness and smallness?

Yes, I do.

But still you allow that Simmias does not really exceed Socrates,
as the words may seem to imply, because he is Simmias, but by reason
of the size which he has ; just as Simmias does not exceed Socrates
because he is Simmias, any more than because Socrates is Socrates,
but because he has smallness when compared with the greatness of
Simmias ?

True.

And if Phaedo exceeds him in size, this -is not because Phaedo
is Phaedo, but because Phaedo has greatness relatively to Simmias,
who is comparatively smaller?

That is true.

And therefore Simmias is said to be great, and is also said to be
small, because he is in a mean between them, exceeding the smallness
of the one by his greatness, and allowing the greatness of the other
to exceed his smallness. He added, laughing, I am speaking like a
book, but I believe that what I am saying is true.

296 PLATO

Simmias assented to this.

The reason why I say this, is that I want you to agree with me
in thinking, not only that absolute greatness will never be great and
also small, but that greatness in us or in the concrete will never admit
the small or admit of being exceeded : instead of this one of two things
will happen, either the greater will fly or retire before the opposite,
which is the less, or at the advance of the less will cease to exist;
but will not, if allowing or admitting smallness, be changed by that ;
even as I, having received and admitted smallness when compared
with Simmias, remain just as I was, and am the same small person.
And as the idea of greatness cannot condescend ever to be or become
small, in like manner the smallness in us cannot be or become great ;
nor can any other opposite which remains the same ever be or become
its own opposite, but either passes away or perishes in the change.

That, replied Cebes, is quite my notion.

One of the company, though I do not exactly remember which
of them, on hearing this, said : By heaven, is not this the direct con-
trary of what was admitted before — that out of the greater came the
less and out of the less the greater, and that opposites were simply
generated from opposites ; whereas now this seems to be utterly
denied.

Socrates inclined his head to the speaker and listened. I like
your courage, he said, in reminding us of this. But you do not ob-
serve that there is a difference in the two cases. For then we were
speaking of opposites in the concrete, and now of the essential opposite
which, as is affirmed, neither in us nor in nature can ever be at vari-
ance with itself : then, my friend, we were speaking of things in which
opposites are inherent and which are called after them, but now about
the opposites which are inherent in them and which give their name
to them ; these essential opposites will never, as we maintain, admit
of generation into or out of one another. At the same time, turning
to Cebes, he said : Were you at all disconcerted, Cebes, at our friend's
objection ?

That was not my feeling, said Cebes ; and yet I cannot deny that
I am apt to be disconcerted.

Then we are agreed after all, said Socrates, that the opposite will
never in any case be opposed to itself?

To that we are quite agreed, he replied.

Yet once more let me ask you to consider the question from an-
other point of view, and see whether you agree with me : — There is

PLATO 297

<i thing which you term heat, and another thing which you term cold?

Certainly.

But are they the same as fire and snow?

Most assuredly not.

Heat is not the same as fire, nor is cold the same as snow?

No.

And yet you will surely admit, that when snow, as was before
said, is under the influence of heat, they will not remain snow and
heat; but at the advance of the heat, the snow will either retire or
perish ?

Very true, he replied.

And the fire too at the advance of the cold will either retire or
perish ; and when the fire is under the influence of the cold, they will
not remain as before, fire and cold.

That is true, he said.

And in some cases the name of the idea is not confined to the idea ;
but anything else which, not being the idea, exists only in the form
of the idea, may also lay claim to it. I will try to make this clearer
by an example: — The odd number is always called by the name of
odd?

Very true.

But is this the only thing which is called cold? Are there not
other things which have their own name, and yet are called odd, be-
cause, although not the same as oddness, they are never without odd-
ness? — that is what I mean to ask — whether numbers such as the
number three are not of the class of odd. And there are many other
examples : would you not say, for example, that three may be called
by its proper name, and also be called odd, which is not the same
with three? and this may be said not only of three but also of five,
and every alternate number — each of them without being oddness
is odd, and in the same way two and four, and the whole series of
alternate numbers, has every number even, without being evenness.
Do you admit that?

Yes, he said, how can I deny that?

Then now mark the point at which I am aiming: — not only do
essential opposites exclude one another, but also concrete things,
which, although not in themselves opposed, contain opposites ; these,
I say, also reject the idea which is opposed to that which is contained
in them, and at the advance of that they either perish or withdraw.
There is the number three for example; — will not that endure anni-

V 2-19

298 PLATO

hilation or anything sooner than be converted into an even number,
remaining three?

Very true, said Cebes.

And yet, he said, the number two is certainly not opposed to the
number three?

It is not.

Then not only do opposite ideas repel the advance of one another,
but also there are other things which repel the approach of opposites.

That is quite true, he said.

Suppose, he said, that we endeavour, if possible, to determine
what those are.

By all means.

Are they not, Cebes, such as compel the things of which they
have possession, not only to take their own form, but also the form
of some opposite?

What do you mean ?

I mean, as I was just now saying, and have no need to repeat to
you, that those things which are possessed by the number three must
not only be three in number, but must also be odd.

Quite true.

And on this oddness of which the number three has the impress,
the opposite idea will never intrude?

No.

And this impress was given by the odd principle?

Yes.

And to the odd is opposed the even?

True.

Then the idea of the even number will never arrive at three?

No.

Then three has no part in the even ?

None.

Then the triad or number three is uneven?

Very true.

To return then to my distinction of natures which are not oppo-
sites, and yet do not admit opposites : as in this instance, three, al-
though not opposed to the even, does not any the more admit of the
even, but always brings the opposite into play on the other side ; or
as two does not receive the odd, or fire the cold — from these examples
(and there are many more of them) perhaps you may be able to arrive
at the general conclusion, that not only opposites will not receive

PLATO 29iJ

opposites, but also that nothing which brings the opposite will admit
the opposite of that which it brings in that to which it is brought.
And here let me recapitulate — for there is no harm in repetition. The
number five will not admit the nature of the even, any more than ten,
which is the double of five, will admit the nature of the odd — the
double, though not strictly opposed to the odd, rejects the odd alto-
gether. Nor again will parts in the ratio of 3 :2, nor any fraction in
which there is a half, nor again in which there is a third, admit the
notion of the whole, although they are not opposed to the whole. You
will agree to that?

Yes, he said, I entirely agree and go along with you in that.

And now, he said, I think that I may begin again; and to the
question which I am about to ask I will beg you to give not the old
safe answer, but another, of which I will offer you an example ; and
I hope that you will find in what has been just said another founda-
tion which is as safe. I mean that if any one asks you 'what that is,
the inherence of which makes the body hot,' you will reply not heat
(this is what I call the safe and stupid answer), but fire, a far better
answer, which we are now in a condition to give. Or if any one asks
you 'why a body is diseased,' you will not say from disease, but from
fever ; and instead of saying that oddness is the car.se of odd numbers,
you will say that the monad is the cause of them : and so of things in
general, as I dare say that you will understand sufficiently without my
adducing any further examples.

Yes, he said, I quite understand you.

Tell me, then, what is that the inherence of which will render the
body alive?

The soul, he replied.

And is this always the case?

Yes, he said, of course.

Then whatever the soul possesses, to that she conies bearing life?

Yes, certainly.

And is there any opposite to life ?

There is, he said.

And what is that?

Death.

Then the soul, as has been acknowledged, will never receive the
opposite of what she brings. And now, he said, what did we call that
principle which repels the even?

The odd.

300 PLATO

And that principle which repels the musical, or the just?

The unmusical, he said, and the unjust.

And what do we call that principle which does not admit of death ?

The immortal, he said.

And does the soul admit of death ?

No.

Then the soul is immortal ?

Yes, he said.

And may we say that this is proven ?

Yes, abundantly proven, Socrates, he replied.

And supposing that the odd were imperishable, must not three be
imperishable ?

Of course.

And if that which is cold were imperishable, when the warm prin-
ciple came attacking the snow, must not the snow have retired whole
and unmelted — for it could never have perished, nor could it have re-
mained and admitted the heat?

True, he said.

Again, if the uncooling or warm principle were imperishable, the
fire when assailed by cold would not have perished or have been ex-
tinguished, but would have gone away unaffected?

Certainly, he said.

And the same may be said of the immortal : if the immortal is
also imperishable, the soul when attacked by death cannot perish;
for the preceding argument shows that the soul will not admit of death,
or ever be dead, any more than three or the odd number will admit
of the even, or fire, or the heat in the fire, of the cold. Yet a person
may say : 'But although the odd will not become even at the approach
of the even, why may not the odd perish and the even take the place
of the odd?' Now to him who makes this objection, we cannot
answer that the odd principle is imperishable; for this has not been
acknowledged, but if this had been acknowledged, there would have
been no difficulty in contending that at the approach of the even the
odd principle and the number three took up their departure ; and the
same argument would have held good of fire and heat and any other
thing.

Very true.

And the same may be said of the immortal ; if the immortal is
also imperishable, then the soul will be imperishable as well as im-
mortal ; but if not, some other proof of her imperishableness will have

PLATO 301

to be given.

No other proof is needed, he said; for if the immortal, being
eternal, is liable to perish, then nothing is imperishable.

Yes, replied .Socrates, all men will agree that God, and the essen-
tial form of life, and the immortal in general, will never perish.

Yes, all men, he said — that is true; and what is more, gods, if
I am not mistaken, as well as men.

Seeing then that the immortal is indestructible, must not the soul,
if she is immortal, be also imperishable?

Most certainly.

Then when death attacks a man, the mortal portion of him may
be supposed to die, but the immortal goes out of the way of death and
is preserved safe and sound?

True.

Then, Cebes, beyond question, the soul is immortal and imper-
ishable, and our souls will truly exist in another world!

I am convinced, Socrates, said Cebes, and have nothing more to
object; but if my friend Simmias, or any one else, has any further
objection, he had better speak out, and not keep silence, since I do
not know how there can ever be a more fitting time to which he can
defer the discussion, if there is anything which he wants to say or
have said.

But I have nothing more to say, replied Simmias ; nor do I see
any room for uncertainty, except that which arises necessarily out
of the greatness of the subject and the feebleness of man, and which
1 cannot help feeling.

Yes, Simmias, replied Socrates, that is well said : and more than
that, first principles, even if they appear certain, should be carefully
considered; and when they are satisfactorily ascertained, then, with
a sort of hesitating confidence in human reason, you may, I think,
follow the course of the argument; and if this is clear, there will be
no need for any further inquiry.

That, he said, is true.

But then, O my friends, he said, if the soul is really immortal,
ivhat care should be taken of her, not only in respect of the portion
of time which is called life, but of eternity ! And the danger of neg-
lecting her from this point of view does indeed appear to be awful. If
death had only been the end of all, the wicked would have had a good
bargain in dying, for they would have been happily quit not only of
their body, but of their own evil together with their souls. But now.

302 PLATO

as the soul plainly appears to be immortal, there is no release or sal-
vation from evil except the attainment of the highest virtue and wis-
dom. For the soul when on her progress to the world below takes
nothing with her but nurture and education; which are indeed said
greatly to benefit or greatly to injure the departed, at the very begin-
ning of his pilgrimage in the other world.

For after death, as they say, the genius of each individual, to
whom he belonged in life, leads him to a certain place in which the
dead are gathered together for judgment, whence they go into the
world below, following the guide, who is appointed to conduct them
from this world to the other : and when they have there received their
due and remained their time, another guide brings them back again
after many revolutions of ages. Now this journey to the other world
is not, as Aeschylus says in the Telephus, a single and straight path
— no guide would be wanted for that, and no one could miss a single
path ; but there are many partings of the road, and windings, as I
must infer from the rites and sacrifices which are offered to the gods
below in places where three ways meet on earth. The wise and ord-
erly soul is conscious of her situation, and follows in the path ; but
the soul which desires the body, and which, as I was relating before,
has long been fluttering about the lifeless frame and the world of
sight, is after many struggles and many sufferings hardly and with
violence carried away by her attendant genius, and when she arrives
at the place where the other souls are gathered, if she be impure and
have done impure deeds, or been concerned in foul murders or other
crimes which are the brothers of these, and the works of brothers in
crime — from that soul every one flees and turns away; no one will
be her companion, no one her guide, but alone she wanders in ex-
tremity of evil until certain times are fulfilled, and when they are ful-
filled, she is borne irresistibly to her own fitting inhabitation ; as every
pure and just soul which has passed through life in the company and
under the guidance of the gods has also her own proper home.

Now the earth has divers wonderful regions, and is indeed in
nature and extent very unlike the notions of geographers, as I believe
on the authority of one who shall be nameless.

What do you mean, Socrates? said Simmias. I have myself
heard many descriptions of the earth, but I do not know in what you
are putting your faith, and I should like to know.

Well, Simmias, replied Socrates, the recital of a tale does not, I
think, require the art of Glaucus ; and I know not that the art of Glau-

PLATO 303

cus could prove the truth of my tale, which I myself should never be
able to prove, and even if I could, I fear, Simmias, that my life would
come to an end before the argument was completed. I may describe
to you, however, the form and regions of the earth according to my
conception of them.

That, said Simmias, will be enough.

Well then, he said, my conviction is, that the earth is .a round body
in the centre of the heavens, and therefore has no need of air or any
similar force as a support, but is kept there and hindered from falling
or inclining any way by the equability of the surrounding heaven and
by her own equipoise. For that which, being in equipoise, is in the
centre of that which is equably diffused, will not incline any way in
any degree, but will always remain in the same state and not deviate.
And this is my first notion.

Which is surely a correct one, said Simmias.

Also I believe that the earth is very vast, and that we who dwell
in the region extending from the river Phasis to the Pillars of Her-
acles along the borders of the sea, are just like ants or frogs about a
marsh, and inhabit a small portion only, and that many others dwell
in many like places. For I should say that in all parts of the earth
there are hollows of various forms and sizes, into which the water
and the mist and the air collect; and that the true earth is pure and
in the pure heaven, in which also are the stars — that is the heaven
which is commonly spoken of as the ether, of which this is but the
sediment collecting in the hollows of the earth. But we who live in
these hollows are deceived into the notion that we are dwelling above
on the surface of the earth ; which is just as if a creature who was at
the bottom of the sea were to fancy that he was on the surface of the
water, and that the sea was the heaven through which he saw the sun
and the other stars, — he having never come to the surface by reason
of his feebleness and sluggishness, and having never lifted up his
head and seen, nor ever heard from one who had seen, this other
region which is so much purer and fairer than his own. Now this
is exactly our case : for we are dwelling in a hollow of the earth, and1
fancy that we are on the surface ; and the air we call the heaven, and
in this we imagine that the stars move. But this is also owing toj
our feebleness and sluggishness, which prevent our reaching the sur-
face of the air : for if any man could arrive at the exterior limit, or
take the wings of a bird and fly upward, like a fish who puts his head
out find sees this world, he would see a world beyond; and, if the

304 PLATO

nature of man could sustain the sight, he would acknowledge that
this was the place of the true heaven and the true light and the true
stars. For this earth, and the stones, and the entire region which
surrounds us, are spoilt and corroded, like the things in the sea which
are corroded by the brine ; for in the sea too there is hardly any noble
or perfect growth, but clefts only, and sand, and an endless slough
of mud ; and even the shore is not to be compared to the fairer sights
of this world. And greater far is the superiority of the other. Now
of that upper earth which is under the heaven, I can tell you a charm-
ing tale, Simmias, which is well worth hearing.

And we, Socrates, replied Simmias, shall be charmed to listen.

The tale, my friend, he said, is as follows : — In the first place, the
earth, when looked at from above, is like one of those balls which have
leather coverings in twelve pieces, and is of divers colours, of which
the colours which painters use on earth are only a sample. But there
the whole earth is made up of them, and they are brighter far and
clearer than ours ; there is a purple of wonderful lustre, also the ra-
diance of gold, and the white which is in the earth is whiter than any
chalf or snow. Of these and other colours the earth is made up,
and they are more in number and fairer than the eye of man has ever
seen ; and the very hollows (of which I was speaking) filled with air
and water are seen like light flashing amid the other colours, and
have a colour of their own, which gives a sort of unity to the variety
of earth. And in this fair region everything that grows — trees, and
flowers, and fruits — are in a like degree fairer than any here; and
there are hills, and stones in them in a like degree smoother, and
more transparent, and fairer in colour than our highly-valued emer-
alds and sardonyxes and jaspers, and other gems, which are but
minute fragments of them : for there all the stones are like our prec-
ious stones, and fairer still. The reason of this is, that they are pure,
and not, like our precious stones, infected or corroded by the corrupt
briny elements which coagulate among us, as well as in animals and
plants. They are the jewels of the upper earth, which also shines with
gold and silver and the like, and they are visible to sight and large
abundant and found in every region of the earth, and blessed is he
who sees them. And upon the earth are animals and men, some in
a middle region, others dwelling about the air as we dwell about the
sea ; others in islands which the air flows round, near the continent :
and in a word, the air is used by them as the water and the sea are by
its, and the ether is to them what the air is to us. Moreover, the tem-

PLATO 305

perament of their seasons is such that they have no disease, and live
much longer than we do, and have sight and hearing and smell, and
all the other senses, in far greater perfection, in the same degree that
air is purer than water or the ether than air. Also they have temples
and sacred places in which the gods really dwell, and they hear their
voices and receive their answers, and are conscious of them and hold
converse with them, and they see the sun, moon, and stars as they
really are, and their other blessedness is of a piece with this.

Such is the nature of the whole earth, and of the things which
are around the earth ; and there are divers regions in the hollows on
the face of the globe everywhere, some of them deeper and also wider
than that which we inhabit, others deeper and with a narrower open-
ing than ours, and some are shallower and wider ; all have numerous
perforations, and passages broad and narrow in the interior of the
earth, connecting them with one another; and there flows into and
out of them, as into basins, a vast tide of water, and huge subterranean
streams of perennial rivers, and springs hot and cold, and a great
fire, and great rivers of fire, and streams of liquid mud, tHin or thick
(like the rivers of mud in Sicily, and the lava streams which follow
them), and the regions about which they happen to flow are filled up
with them. And there is a sort of swing in the interior of the earth
which moves all this up and down. Now the swing is on this wise : —
There is a chasm which is the vastest of them all, and pierces right
through the whole earth; this is that which Homer describes in the
words : —

'Far off, where is the inmost depth beneath the earth;1

and which he in other places, and many other poets, have called Tar-
tarus. And the swing is caused by the streams flowing into and out
of this chasm, and they each have the nature of the soil through which
they flow. And the reason why the streams are always flowing in
and out, is that the watery element has no bed or bottom, and is
surging and swinging up and down, and the surrounding wind and
air do the same; they follow the water up and down, hither and
thither, over the earth — just as in respiring the air is always in process
of inhalation and exhalation ; — and the wind swinging with the water
in and out produces fearful and irresistible blasts: when the waters
retire with a rush into the lower parts of the earth, as they are called,
they flow through the earth into those regions, and fill them up as
with the alternate motion of a pump, they again fill the hollows here,

306 PLATO

and when these are filled, flow through subterranean channels and
find their way to their several places, forming seas, and lakes, and
rivers, and springs. Thence they again enter the earth, some of them
making a long circuit into many lands, others going to few places
and those not distant; and again fall into Tartarus, some at a point
a good deal lower than that at which they rose, and others not much
lower, but all in some degree lower than the point of issue. And
some burst forth again on the opposite side, and some on the same
side, and some wind round the earth with one or many folds like the
coils of a serpent, and descend as far as they can, but always return
and fall into the lake. The rivers on either side can descend only
to the centre and no further, for to the rivers on both sides the op-
posite side is a precipice.

Now these rivers are many, and mighty, and diverse, and there
are four principal ones, of which the greatest and outermost is that
called Oceanus, which flows round the earth in a circle; and in the
opposite direction flows Acheron, which passes under the earth
through desert places, into the Acherusian lake: this is the lake to
the shores of which the souls of the many go when they are dead, and
after waiting an appointed time, which is to some a longer and to
some a shorter time, they are sent back again to be born as animals.
The third river rises between the two, and near the place of rising
pours into a vast region of fire, and forms a lake larger than the Med-
iterranean Sea, boiling with water and mud ; and proceeding muddy
and turbid, and winding about the earth, conies, among other places,
to the extremities of the Acherusian lake, but mingles not with the
waters of the lake, and after making many coils about the earth
plunges into Tartarus at a deeper level. This is that Pyriphlegethon,
as the stream is called, which throws up jets of fire in all sorts of
places. The fourth river goes out on the opposite side, and falls first
of all into a wild and savage region, which is all of a dark blue colour,
like lapis lazuli ; and this is that river which is called the Stygian river,
and falls into and forms the Lake Styx, and after falling into the lake
and receiving strange powers in the waters, passes under the earth,
winding round in the opposite direction to Pyriphlegethon, and meet-
ing in the Acherusian lake from the opposite side. And the water
of this river too mingles with no other, but flows round in a circle
and falls into Tartarus over against Pyriphlegethon; and the name
of this river, as the poets say, is Cocytus.

Such is the nature of the other world ; and when the dead arrive

PLATO 307

at the place to which the genius of each severally conveys them, first
of all, they have sentence passed upon them, as they have lived well
and piously or not. And those who appear to have lived neither well
nor ill, go to the river Acheron, and mount such conveyances as they
can get, and are carried in them to the lake, and there they dwell and
are purified of their evil deeds, and suffer the penalty of the wrongs
which they have done to others, and are absolved, and receive the
rewards of their good deeds according to their deserts. But those
who appear to be incurable by reason of the greatness of their crimes
— who have committed many and terrible deeds of sacrilege, murders
foul and violent, or the like — such are hurled into Tartarus which is
their suitable destiny, and they never come out. Those again who
have committed crimes, which, although great, are not unpardonable
— who in a moment of anger, for example, have done violence to a
father or a mother, and have repented for the remainder of their lives,
or, who have taken the life of another under the like extenuating cir-
cumstances— these are plunged into Tartarus, the pains of which they
are compelled to undergo for a year, but at the end of the year the
wave casts them forth — mere homicides by way of Cocytus, parri-
cides and matricides by Pyriphlegethon — and they are borne to the
Acherusian lake, and there they lift up their voices and call upon the
victims whom they have slain or wronged, to have pity on them, and
to receive them, and to let them come out of the river into the lake.
And if they prevail, then they come forth and cease from their
troubles ; but if not, they are carried back again into Tartarus and
from thence into the rivers unceasingly, until they obtain mercy from
those whom they wronged: for that is the sentence inflicted upon
them by their judges. Those also who are remarkable for having
led holy lives are released from this earthly prison, and go to their
pure home which is above, and dwell in the purer earth; and those
who have duly purified themselves with philosophy, live henceforth
altogether without the body, in mansions fairer far than these, which
may not be described, and of which the time would fail me to tell.

Wherefore, Simmias, seeing all these things, what ought not we
to do in order to obtain virtue and wisdom in this life? Fair is the
prize, and the hope great!

I do not mean to affirm that the description which I have given
of the soul and her mansions is exactly true — a man of sense ought
hardly to say that. But I do say that, inasmuch as the soul is shown
to be immortal, he may venture to think, not improperly or un-

308 PLATO

worthily, that something of the kind is true. The venture is a glorious
one, and he ought to comfort himself with words like these, which
is the reason why I lengthen out the tale. Wherefore, I say, let a
man be of good cheer about his soul, who has cast away the pleasures
and ornaments of the body as alien to him, and rather hurtful in
their effects, and has followed after the pleasures of knowledge in
this life ; who has adorned the soul in her own proper jewels, which
are temperance, and justice, and courage, and nobility, and truth —
in these arrayed she is ready to go on her journey to the world below,
when her time comes. You, Simmias and Cebes, and all other men,
will depart at some time or other. Me already, as the tragic poet
would say, the voice of fate calls. Soon I must drink the poison;
and I think that I had better repair to the bath first, in order that the
women may not have the trouble of washing my body after I am dead.

When he had done speaking, Crito said: And have you any
commands for us, Socrates — anything to say about your children, or
any other matter in which we can serve you?

Nothing particular, he said : only, as I have always told you, I
would have you look to yourselves ; that is a service which you may
always be doing to me and mine as well as to yourselves. And you
need not make professions ; for if you take no thought for yourselves,
and walk not according to the precepts which I have given you, not
now for the first time, the warmth of your professions will be of no
avail.

We will do our best, said Crito. But in what way would you
have us bury you?

In any way that you like ; only you must get hold of me, and take
care that I do not walk away from you. Then he turned to us, and
added with a smile : — I cannot make Crito believe that I am the same
Socrates who have been talking and conducting the argument; he
fancies that I am the other Socrates whom he will soon see, a dead
body — and he asks, How shall he bury me? And though I have
spoken many words in the endeavour to show that when I have drunk
the poison I shall leave you and go to the joys of the blessed, — these
words of mine, with which I comforted you and myself, have had, as
I perceive, no effect upon Crito. And therefore I want you to be
surety for me now, as he was surety for me at the trial : but let the
promise be of another sort ; for he was my surety to the judges that
I would remain, but you must be my surety to him that I shall not
remain, but go away and depart ; and then he will suffer less at my

PLATO 309

death, and not be grieved when he sees my body being burned or
buried. I would not have him sorrow at my hard lot, or say at the
burial, Thus we lay out Socrates, or, Thus we follow him to the grave
or bury him ; for false words are not only evil in themselves, but they
infect the soul with evil. Be of good cheer then, my dear Crito, and
say that you are burying my body only, and do with that as is usual,
and as you think best.

When he had spoken these words, he arose and went into the
bath-chamber with Crito, who bid us wait; and we waited, talking
and thinking of the subject of discourse, and also of the greatness
of our sorrow; he was like a father of whom we were being be-
reaved, and we were about to pass the rest of our lives as orphans.
When he had taken the bath his children were brought to him — (he
had two young sons and an elder one) ; and the women of his family
also came, and he talked to them and gave them a few directions in
the presence of Crito ; and he then dismissed them and returned to us.

Now the hour of sunset was near, for a good deal of time had
passed while he was within. When he came out, he sat down with
us again after his bath, but not much was said. Soon the jailer, who
was the servant of the eleven, entered and stood by him, saying: —
To you, Socrates, whom I know to be the noblest and gentlest and
best of all who ever came to this place, I will not impute the angry
feelings of other men, who rage and swear at me, when, in obedience
to the authorities, I bid them drink the poison — indeed, I am sure
that you will not be angry with me; for others, as you are aware,
and not I, are the guilty cause. And so fare you well, and try to
bear lightly what must needs be; you know my errand. Then
bursting into tears he turned away and went out.

Socrates looked at him and said : I return your good wishes, and
will do as you bid. Then turning to us, he said, How charming the
man is : since I have been in prison he has always been coming to
see me, and at times he would talk to me, and was as good as could
be to me, and now see how generously he sorrows for me. But we
must do as he says, Crito; let the cup be brought, if the poison is
prepared : if not, let the attendant prepare some.

Yet, said Crito, the sun is still upon the hill-tops, and many a
one has taken the draught late, and after the announcement has been
made to him, he has eaten and drunk, and indulged in sensual delights ;
do not hasten then, there is still time.

Socrates said : Yes, Crito, and they of whom you speak are right

310 PLATO

in doing thus, for they think that they will gain by the delay ; but I
am right in not doing thus, for I do not think that I should gain any-
thing by drinking the poison a little later; I should be sparing and
saving a life which is already gone ; I could only laugh at myself for
this. Please then to do as I say, and not to refuse me.

Crito, when he heard this, made a sign to the servant; and the
servant went in, and remained for some time, and then returned with
the jailer carrying the cup of poison. Socrates said : You, my good
friend, who are experienced in these matters, shall give me directions
how I am to proceed. The man answered: You have only to walk
about until your legs are heavy, and then to lie down, and the poison
will act. At the same time he handed the cup to Socrates, who in
the easiest and gentlest manner, without the least fear or change of
colour or feature, looking at the man with all his eyes, Echecrates,
as his manner was, took the cup and said : What do you say about
making a libation out of this cup to any god? May I, or not? The
man answered : We only prepare, Socrates, just so much as we deem
enough. I understand, he said : yet I may and must pray to the gods
to prosper my journey from this to that other world — may this then,
which is my prayer, be granted to me. Then holding the cup to his
lips, quite readily and cheerfully he drank off the poison. And hith-
erto most of us had been able to control our sorrow ; but now when
we saw him drinking, and saw too that he had finished the draught,
we could no longer forbear, and in spite of myself my own tears were
flowing fast; so that I covered my face and wept over myself, for
certainly I was not weeping over him, but at the thought of my own
calamity in having lost such a companion. Nor was I the first, for
Crito, when he found himself unable to restrain his tears, had got up
and moved away, and I followed ; and at that moment, Appollodorus,
who had been weeping all the time, broke out into a loud cry which
made cowards of us all. Socrates alone retained his calmness : What
is this strange outcry? he said. I sent away the women mainly in
order that they might not offend in this way, for I have heard that a
man should die in peace. Be quiet then, and have patience. When
we heard that, we were ashamed, and refrained our tears; and he
walked about until, as he said, his legs began to fail, and then he lay
on his back, according to the directions, and the man who gave him
the poison now and then looked at his feet and legs; and after a
while he pressed his foot hard, and asked him if he could feel ; and
he said, No; and then his leg, and so upwards and upwards, and

PLATO 311

showed us that he was cold and stiff. And he felt them himself, and
said: When the poison reaches the heart, that will be the end. He
was beginning to grow cold about the groin, when he uncovered his
face, for he had covered himself up, and said (they were his last words)
— he said : Crito, I owe a cock to Asclepius ; will you remember to
pay the debt? The debt shall be paid, said Crito; is there anything
else ? There was no answer to this question ; but in a minute or two
a movement was heard, and the attendants uncovered him ; his eyes
were set, and Crito closed his eyes and mouth.

Such was the end, Echecrates, of our friend, whom I may truly
call the wisest, and justest, and best of all the men whom I have ever
known,

TRANSLATION OF B. JOWETT.

THE IDEAL STATE

SOCRATES IS THE NARRATOR

ORIGIN AND EDUCATION

A STATE, I said, arises, as I conceive, out of the needs of mankind ;
no one is self-sufficing, but all of us have many wants. Can any other
origin of a State be imagined?

None, he replied.

Then, as we have many wants, and many persons are needed to
supply them, one takes a helper for one purpose and another for an-
other; and when these helpers and partners are gathered together in
one habitation the body of inhabitants is termed a State.

True, he said.

And they exchange with one another, and one gives, and another
receives, under the idea that the exchange will be for their good.

Very true.

Then, I said, let us begin and create a State; and yet the true
creator is necessity, who is the mother of our invention.

True, he replied.

Now the first and greatest of necessities is food, which is the con-

312 PLATO

dition of life and existence.

Certainly.

The second is a dwelling, and the third clothing and that sort of
thing.

True.

And now let us see how our city will be able to supply this great
demand. We may suppose that one man is a husbandman, another
a builder, some one else a weaver — shall we add to them a shoemaker,
or perhaps some other purveyor to our bodily wants ?

Quite right.

The barest notion of a State must include four or five men.

Clearly.

And now then will they proceed? Will each give the result of
his labours to all ? — the husbandman, for example, producing for four,
and labouring in the production of food for himself and others four
times as long and as much as he needs to labour ; or shall he leave
others and not be at the trouble of producing for them, but produce
a fourth for himself in a fourth of the time, and in the remaining three
fourths of his time be employed in making a house or a coat or a pair
of shoes?

Adeimantus thought that the former would be the better way.

I dare say that you are right, I replied, for I am reminded as you
speak that we are not all alike ; there are diversities of natures among
us which are adapted to different occupations.

Very true.

And will you have a work better done when the workman has
many occupations, or when he has only one?

When he has only one.

Further, there can be no doubt that a work is spoilt when not
done at the right time ?

No doubt of that.

For business is not disposed to wait until the doer of the business
is at leisure ; but the doer must be at command, and make the business
his first object.

He must.

Thus then all things are produced more plentifully and easily
and of a better quality when one man does one thing which is natural
to him and is done at the right time, and leaves other things.

Undoubtedly.

Then more than four citizens will be required, for the husbandman

PLATO 313

will not make his own plough or mattock, or other implements of
agriculture, if they are to be good for anything. Neither will the
builder make his tools — and he too, needs many; and the same may
be said of the weaver and shoemaker.

True.

Then carpenters, and smiths, and other artisans, will be sharers
in our little State, which is already beginning to grow?

True.

Yet even if we add neatherds, shepherds, and other herdsmen,
in order that our husbandmen may have oxen to plough with, and
builders as well as husbandmen have the use of beasts of burden for
their carrying, and weavers and curriers of their fleeces and skins, —
still our State will not be very large.

That is true ; yet neither will that be a very small State which con-
tains all these.

Further, I said, to place the city on a spot where no imports are
required is wellnigh impossible.

Impossible.

Then there must be another class of citizens who will bring the
required supply from another city?

There must.

But if the trader goes empty-handed, taking nothing which those
who are to supply the need want, he will come back empty-handed.

That is certain.

And therefore what they produce at home must be not only
enough for themselves, but such both in quantity and quality as to
accommodate those from whom their wants are supplied.

That is true.

Then more husbandmen and more artisans will be required?

They will.

Not to mention the importers and exporters, who are called mer-
chants.

Yes.

Then we shall want merchants?

We shall.

And if merchandise is to be carried over the sea, skillful sailors
will be needed, and in considerable numbers?

Yes, in considerable numbers.

Then, again, within the city, how will they exchange their pro-

V 2— *>0

314 PLATO

ductions? and this, as you may remember, was the object of our so-
ciety.

The way will be, that they will buy and sell.

Then they will need a market-place, and a money-token for pur-
poses of exchange.

Certainly.

Suppose now that a husbandman, or possibly an artisan, brings
some production to market, and he comes at a time when there is no
one to exchange with him, — is he to leave his work and sit idle in the
market-place ?

Not at all ; he will find people there who, seeing this want, take
upon themselves the duty of sale. In well-ordered states they are
commonly those who are the weakest in bodily strength, and there-
fore unable to do anything else ; for all they have to do is to be in the
market, and take money of those who desire to buy goods, and in ex-
change for goods to give money to those who desire to sell.

This want, then, will introduce retailers into our State. Is not
'retailer' the term which is applied to those who sit in the market-place
buying and selling, while those who wander from one city to another
are called merchants ?

Yes, he said.

And there is another class of servants, who are intellectually hard-
ly on the level of companionship; still they have plenty of bodily
strength for labour, which accordingly they sell, and are called, if I
do not mistake, hirelings, hire being the name which is given to the
price of their labour.

True.

Then hirelings will help to make our population.

And now, Adeimantus, is our State matured and perfected?

Surely.

Where, then, is justice, and where is injustice, and in which part
of the State are they to be found ?

Probably in the relations of these citizens with one another. I
cannot imagine any other place in which they are more likely to be
found.

I dare say that you are right in that suggestion, I said ; still, we
had better consider the matter further, and not shrink from the task.

First, then, let us consider what will be their way of life, now that
we have thus established them. Will they not produce corn, and wine,
and clothes, and shoes, and build houses for themselves? And when

PLATO 315

they are housed, they will work in summer commonly stripped and
barefoot, but in winter substantially clothed and shod. They will feed
on barley and wheat, baking the wheat and kneading the flour, making
noble puddings and loaves ; these they will serve upon a mat of reeds
or clean leaves, themselves reclining the while upon beds of yew or
myrtle boughs. And they and their children will feast, drinking of
the wine which they have made, wearing garlands on their heads, and
having the praises of the gods on their lips, living in sweet society,
and having a care that their families do not exceed their means ; for
they will have an eye to poverty or war.

But, said Glaucon, interposing, you have not given them a relish
to their meal.

True, I replied, I had forgotten that; of course they will have a
relish — salt, and olives, and cheese, and onions, and cabbages or other
country herbs which are fit for boiling ; and we shall give them a des-
sert of figs, and pulse, and beans, and myrtle-berries, and beech -nuts,
which they will roast at the fire, drinking in moderation. And with
such a diet they may be expected to live in peace to a good old age,
and bequeath a similar life to their children after them.

Yes, Socrates, he said, and if you were making a city of pigs, how
else would you feed the beasts?

But what would you have, Glaucon ? I replied.

Why, he said, you should give them the proprieties of life. People
who are to be comfortable are accustomed to lie on sofas, and dine off
tables, and they should have dainties and dessert in the modern fashion.

Yes, said I, now I understand; the question which you would
have me consider is, not only how a State, but how a luxurious State
is to be created ; and possibly there is no harm in this, for in such a
State we shall be more likely to see how justice and injustice grow up.
I am certainly of opinion that the true State, and that which may be
said to be a healthy constitution, is the one which I have described.
But if you would like to see the inflamed constitution, there is no ob-
jection to this. For I suppose that many will be dissatisfied with the
simpler way of life. They will be for adding sofas, and tables,
and other furniture; also dainties, and perfumes, and incense, and
courtesans, and cakes, not of one sort only, but in profusion and var-
iety ; our imagination must not be limited to the necessaries of which
I was at first speaking, such as houses, and clothes, and shoes; but
the art of the painter and embroiderer will have to be set in motion,
and gold and ivory and other materials of art will be required.

316 PLATO

True, he said.

Then we must enlarge our borders ; for the original healthy State
is too small. Now will the city have to fill and swell with a multitude
of callings which go beyond what is required by any natural want;
such as the whole tribe of hunters and actors, of which one large class
have to do with figures and colours, another are musicians ; there will
be poets and their attendant train of rhapsodists, players, dancers, con-
tractors ; also makers of divers kinds of utensils, not forgetting wom-
en's ornaments. And we shall want more servants. Will not tutors
be also in request, and nurses wet and dry, tirewomen and barbers,
as well as confectioners and cooks ; and swineherds, too, who were not
needed and therefore not included in the former edition of our State,
but needed in this ? They must not be forgotten : and there will be
hosts of animals, if people are to eat them.

Certainly.

And living in this way we shall have much greater need of phy-
sicians than before?

Much greater.

And the country which was enough to support the original in-
habitants will be too small now, and not enough?

Quite true.

Then a slice of our neighbours' land will be wanted by us for
pasture and tillage, and they will want a slice of ours, if, like ourselves,
they exceed the limit of necessity, and give themselves up to the un-
limited accumulation of wealth?

That, Socrates, will be unavoidable.

And then we shall go to war, Glaucon, — that will be the next thing.

So we shall, he replied.

Then, without determining as yet whether war does good or harm,
thus much we may affirm, that now we have discovered war to be
derived from causes which are also the causes of almost all the evils
in States, private as well as public.

Undoubtedly.

Then our State must once more enlarge; and this time the en-
largements will be nothing short of a whole army, which will have to
go out and fight with the invaders for all that we have, as well as for
the precious souls whom we were describing above.

Why ? he said ; are they not capable of defending themselves ?

No, I said; not if you and all of us were right in the principle
which was acknowledged at the first creation of the State : that prin-

PLATO 317

ciple was, as you will remember, that one man could not practise many
arts.

Very true, he said.

But is not war an art ?

Certainly.

And an art requiring as much attention as shoemaking?

Quite true.

And the shoemaker was not allowed to be a husbandman, or a
weaver, or a builder — in order that we might have our shoes well
made ; but to him and to every other worker one work was assigned
by us for which he was fitted by nature, and he was to continue work-
ing all his life long at that and at no other, and not to let opportuni-
ties slip, and then he would become a good workman. And is there
any more important work than to be a good soldier ? But -is war an
art so easily acquired that a man may be a warrior who is also a hus-
bandman, or shoemaker, or other artisan ; although no one in the
world would be a good dice or draught player who merely took up
the game as a recreation, and had not from his earliest years devoted
himself to this and nothing else? The mere handling of tools will
not make a man a skilled workman, or master of defence, nor be of
any use to him who knows not the nature of each, and has never be-
stowed any attention upon them. How then will he who takes up a
shield or other implement of war all in a day become a good fighter,
whether with heavy-armed or any other kind of troops?

Yes, he said, the tools which would teach their own use would bt
of rare value.

And the greater the business of the guardian is, I said, the more
time, and art, and skill will be needed by him?

That is what I should suppose, he replied.

Will he not also require natural gifts?

Certainly.

We shall have to select natures which are suited to their task of
guarding the city?

That will be our duty.

And anything but an easy duty, I said ; but still we must endeav-
our to do our best as far as we can ?

We must.

The dog is a watcher, I said, and the guardian is also a watcher ;
and regarding them in this point of view only, is not the noble youth
very like a well-bred dog?

318 PLATO

How do you mean?

I mean that both of them ought to be quick to observe, and swift
to overtake the enemy ; and strong too if, when they have caught him,
they have to fight with him.

All these qualities, he replied, will certainly be required.

Well, and your guardian must be brave if he is to fight well?

Certainly.

And is he likely to be brave who has no spirit, whether fiorse or
dog or any other animal. Did you never observe how the presence
of spirit makes the soul of any creature absolutely fearless and in-
vincible ?

Yes ; I have observed that.

Then now we have a clear idea of both the bodily qualities which
are required in the guardian.

True.

And also of the mental ones; his soul is to be full of spirit?

Yes.

But then, Glaucon, those spirited natures are apt to be furious
with one another, and with everybody else.

That is a difficulty, he replied.

Whereas, I said, they ought to be gentle to their friends, and
dangerous to their enemies ; or, instead of their enemies destroying
them, they will destroy themselves.

True, he said.

What is to be done then, I said ; how shall we find a gentle nature
which has also a great spirit, for they seem to be inconsistent with
one another?

True.

And yet he will not be a good guardian who is wanting in either
of these two qualities; and, as the combination of them appears to
be impossible, this is equivalent to saying that to be a good guardian
is also impossible.

I am afraid that is true, he replied.

Here feeling perplexed I began to think over what preceded. My
friend, I said, we deserve to be in a puzzle ; for if we had only kept the
simile before us, the perplexity in which we are entangled would never
have arisen.

What do you mean? he said.

I mean to say that there are natures gifted with those opposite
qualities, the combination of which we are denying.

PLATO 319

And where do you find them ?

Many animals, I replied, furnish examples of them; our friend
the dog is a very good one: you know that well-bred dogs are per-
fectly gentle to their familiars and acquaintances, and the reverse to
strangers.

I know that.

Then there is nothing impossible or out of the order of nature
in our finding a guardian who has a similar combination of qualities ?

Certainly not.

Would you not say that he should combine with the spirited na-
ture the qualities of a philosopher ?

I do not apprehend your meaning.

The trait of which I am speaking, I replied, may be also seen in
the dog, and is very remarkable in an animal.

What trait?

Why a dog, whenever he sees a stranger, is angry ; when an ac-
quaintance, he welcomes him, although the one has never done him
any harm, nor the other any good. Did this never strike you as
curious ?

I never before made the observation myself, though I quite rec-
ognize the truth of your remark.

And surely this instinct of the dog is very charming ; — your dog
is a true philosopher.

Why?

Why, because he distinguishes the face of a friend and of an en-
emy only by the criterion of knowing and not knowing. And must
not the creature be fond of learning who determines what is friendly
and what is unfriendly by the test of knowledge and ignorance ?

Most assuredly.

And is not the love of learning the love of wisdom, which is phil-
osophy ?

They are the same, he replied.

And may we not say confidently of man also, that he who is likely
to be gentle to his friends and acquaintances, must by nature be a
lover of wisdom and knowledge?

That we may safely affirm.

Then he who is to be a really good and noble guardian of the
State will require to unite in himself philosophy and spirit and swift-
ness and strength?

Undoubtedly.

320 PLATO

Then we have found the desired natures; and now that we have
found them, how are they to be reared and educated ? Is this an en-
quiry which may be fairly expected to throw light on the greater en-
quiry which is our final end — How do justice and injustice grow up
in States ? for we do not want to admit anything which is superfluous,
or leave out anything which is really to the point.

Adeimantus thought that the enquiry would be of use to us.

Then, I said, my dear friend, the task must not be given up, even
if somewhat long.

Certainly not.

Come then, and like story-tellers, let us be at leisure, and our
story shall be the education of our heroes.

By all means.

And what shall be their education? Can we find a better than
the old-fashioned sort? — and this has two divisions, gymnastic for
the body, and music for the soul.

True.

Music is taught first, and gymnastic afterwards.

Certainly.

And when you speak of music, do you rank literature under music
or not?

I do.

And literature may be either true or false ?

Yes.

And the young are trained in both kinds, and in the false before
the true?

I do not understand your meaning, he said.

You know, I said, that we begin by telling children stories which,
though not wholly destitute of truth, are in the main fictitious; and
these stories are told them when they are not of an age to learn gym-
nastics.

Very true.

That was my meaning in saying that we must teach music before
gymnastics.

Quite right, he said.

You know also that the beginning is the chiefest part of any work,
especially in a young and tender thing; for that is the time at which
the character is formed and most readily receives the desired impres-
sion.

Quite true.

PLATO 321

And shall we just carelessly allow children to hear any casual tales
which may be framed by casual persons, and to receive into their
minds notions which are the very opposite of those which are to be
held by them when they are grown up?

We cannot allow that.

Then the first thing will be to have a censorship of the writers of
fiction, and let the censors receive any tale of fiction which is good,
and reject the bad ; and we will desire mothers and nurses to tell their
children the authorized ones only. Let them fashion the mind with
these tales, and not the tender frame with the hands only. At the
same time, most of those which are now in use will have to be dis-
carded.

Of what tales are you speaking ? he said.

You may find a model of the lesser in the greater, I said ; for they
are necessarily cast in the same mould, and there is the same spirit
in both of them.

That may be very true, he replied ; but I don't as yet know what
you would term the greater.

Those, I said, which are narrated by Homer and Hesiod, and
the rest of the poets, who have ever been the great story-tellers of
mankind.

But which are the stories that you mean, he said ; and what fault
do you find with them?

A fault which is most serious, I said ; the fault of telling a lie, and
a bad lie.

But when is this fault committed?

Whenever an erroneous representation is made of the nature of
gods and heroes, — like the drawing of a limner which has not the
shadow of a likeness to the truth.

Yes, he said, that sort of thing is certainly very blamable; but
what are the stories which you mean ?

First of all, I said, there was that greatest of all lies in high places,
which the poet told about Uranus, and which was an immoral lie too,
— I mean what Hesiod says that Uranus did, and what Cronus did
to him. (Theogony, 154, 459.) The fact is, that the doings of Cro-
nus, and the sufferings which his son inflicted upon him, even if they
were true, ought not to be lightly told to young and simple persons ;
if possible, they had better be buried in silence. But if there is an
absolute necessity for their mention, a very few might hear them in a
mystery, and then let them sacrifice not a common (Eleusinian) pig,

322 PLATO

but some huge and unprocurable victim; this would have the effect
of very greatly reducing the number of the hearers.

Why, yes, said he, those stories are certainly objectionable.

Yes, Adeimantus, they are stories not to be narrated in our State ;
the young man should not be told that in committing the worst of
crimes he is far from doing anything outrageous, and that he may
chastise his father when he does wrong in any manner that he likes,
and in this will only be following the example of the first and greatest
among the gods.

I quite agree with you, he said ; in my opinion those stories are
not fit to be repeated.

Neither, if we mean our future guardians to regard the habit of
quarrelling as dishonourable, should anything be said of the wars in
heaven, and of the plots and fightings of the gods against one another,
which are quite untrue. Far be it from us to tell them of the battles
of the giants, and embroider them on garments; or of all the innu-
merable other quarrels of gods and heroes with their friends and rela-
tions. If they would only believe us we would tell them that quar-
relling is unholy, and that never up to this time has there been any
quarrel between citizens ; this is what old men and old women should
begin by telling children, and the same when they grow up. And
these are the sort of fictions which the poets should be required to
compose. But the narrative of Hephaestus binding Here his mother,
or how on another occasion Zeus sent him flying for taking her part
when she was being beaten, — such tales must not be admitted into
our State, whether they are supposed to have an allegorical meaning
or not. For the young man cannot judge what is allegorical and what
is literal, and anything that he receives into his mind at that age is
apt to become indelible and unalterable ; and therefore the tales which
they first hear should be models of virtuous thoughts.

There you are right, he replied ;• that is quite essential : but, then,
where are such models to be found? and what are the tales in which
they are contained? when that question is asked, what will be our
answer ?

I said to him, You and I, Adeimantus, are not poets in what we
are about just now, but founders of a State: now the founders of a
State ought to know the general forms in which poets should cast
their tales, and the limits which should be observed by them, but they
are not bound themselves to make the tales.

PLATO 323

That is true, he said ; but what are these forms of theology which
you mean?

Something of this kind, I replied: — God is always to be repre-
sented as he truly is; that is one form which is equally to be ob-
served in every kind of verse, whether epic, lyric, or tragic.

Right.

And is he not truly good? and must he not be represented as
such?

Certainly.

And no good thing is hurtful?

No, indeed.

And that which is not hurtful hurts not?

Certainly not.

And that which hurts not does no evil?

No.

And that which does no evil is the cause of no evil?

Impossible.

And the good is the advantageous ?

Yes.

And the good is the cause of well-being?

Yes.

The good is not the cause of all things, but of the good only, and
not the cause of evil ?

Assuredly.

Then God, if he be good, is not the author of all things, as the
many assert, but he is the cause of a few things only, and not of most
things that occur to men; for few are the goods of human life, and
many are the evils, and the good only is to be attributed to him : of
the evil other causes have to be discovered.

That appears to me to be most true, he said.

Then we must not listen to Homer or any other poet who is guilty
of the folly of saying that

'At the threshold of Zeus lie two casks full of lots, one of good,
the other of evil,'

and that he to whom Zeus gives a mixture of the two

'Sometimes meets with good, at other times with evil fortune ;'
but that he to whom is given the cup of unmingled ill,

324 PLATO

'Him wild hunger drives over the divine earth.'
And again —

'Zeus, who is the dispenser of good and evil to us.

And if any one asserts that the violation of oaths and treaties of which
Pandarus was the real author, was brought about by Athene and Zeus,
or that the strife and conflict of the gods was instigated by Themis
and Zeus, he shall not have our approval ; neither will we allow young
men to hear the words of Aeschylus, when he says, that 'God plants
guilt among men when he desires utterly to destroy a house.' And
if a poet writes of the sufferings of Niobe, which is the subject of the
tragedy in which these iambic verses occur, or of the house of Pelops,
or of the Trojan war, or any similar theme, either we must not permit
him to say that these are the works of God, or, if they are of God, he
must devise some such explanation of them as we are seeking: he
must say that God did what was just and right, and they were the
better for being punished; but that those who are punished are mis-
erable, and God the author of their misery; — that the poet is not to
be permitted to say, though he may say that the wicked are miser-
able because they require to be punished, and are benefited by re-
ceiving punishment from God ; but that God being good is the author
of evil to any one, that is to be strenuously denied, and not allowed to
be sung or said in any well-ordered commonwealth by old or young.
Such a fiction is suicidal, ruinous, impious.

I agree with you, he replied, about this law, and am ready to give
my assent.

Let this then be one of the rules of recitation and invention,—
that God is not the author of evil, but of good only.

That will do, he said.

And what do you think of another principle? Shall I ask you
whether God is a magician, that he should appear insidiously now in
one shape, and now in another — sometimes himself changing and be-
coming different in form, sometimes deceiving us with" the appearance
of such transformations; or is he one and the same immutably fixed
in his own proper image ?

I cannot answer you without more thought.

Well, I said ; but if we suppose a change in God or in anything
else, that change must be effected either by another or by himself?

That is most certain.

PLATO 325

And things which are at their best are also least liable to be al-
tered or discomposed ; for example, when healthiest and strongest the
human frame is least liable to be affected by meats, and drinks and
labours, and the plant which is in the fullest vigour also suffers least
from heat or wind, or other similar accidents.

Of course.

And this is true of the soul as well as of the body; the bravest
and wisest soul will be least affected by any external influence.

True.

And further, I conceive that this principle applies to all works
of art — vessels, houses, garments; and that when well made and in
good condition, they are least altered by time and circumstances.

That is true.

Then everything which is well made by art of nature, or both, is
liable to receive the least change at the hands of others? and God
and his attributes are absolutely perfect?

Of course.

He is therefore least likely to take many forms.

He is.

But suppose again that he changes and transforms himself?

Clearly, he said, that must be the case if he is changed at all.

And will he then change himself for the better, or for the worse ?

If he change at all he must change for the worse, for we cannot
suppose that he is deficient in virtue or beauty.

Very true, Adeimantus ; but then, would any one, whether God or
man, desire to change for the worse?

That cannot be.

Then God too cannot be willing to change ; being, as is supposed,
the fairest and best that is conceivable, he remains absolutely and for
ever in his own form.

That necessarily follows, he said, in my judgment.

Then, I said, my dear friend, let none of the poets tell us that

'The gods, in the disguise of strangers, prowl about cities having
diverse forms ;'

and let no one slander Proteus and Thetis, neither let anyone, either
in tragedy or any other kind of poetry, introduce Here disguised in
the likeness of a priestess,

'asking an alms for the life-giving daughters of the river Inachus ;'

328 PLATO

let us have no more lies of that sort. Neither must we have mothers
under the influence of the poets scaring their children with abomin-
able tales

'of certain gods who go about by night in the likeness, as is said, of
strangers from every land;'

let them beware lest they blaspheme against the gods, and at the same
time make cowards of their children.

That ought certainly to be prohibited, he said.

But still you may say that although God is himself unchange-
able, he may take various forms in order to bewitch and deceive us.

Suppose that, he replied.

Well, but can you imagine that God will be willing to lie, whether
in word or action, by making a false representation of himself?

I cannot say, he replied.

Do you not know, I said, that the true lie, if I may use such an
expression, is hated of gods and men?

What do you mean? he said.

I mean this, I said, — that no one is willing to be deceived in that
which is the truest and highest part of himself, or about the truest and
highest matters ; there he is most afraid of a lie having possession of
him.

Still, he said, I do not comprehend you.

The reason is, I replied, that you attribute some grand meaning
to me; whereas all that I am saying is, that deception, or being de-
ceived or uninformed about true being in the highest faculty, which
is the soul, and in that part of them to have and to hold the lie, is what
mankind least like ; — that, I say, is what they utterly detest.

There is nothing more hateful to them.

And, as I was just now saying, this ignorance in the soul of the
lie within may be called the true lie ; for the lie in words is only a kind
of imitation and shadowy image of a previous affection of the soul,
not pure unadulterated falsehood. Am I not right in saying this?

Perfectly right.

The true lie is hated not only by the gods, but also by men.

Yes.

Whereas the lie in words is in certain cases useful and not hate-
ful ; in dealing with enemies — that would be an instance ; or again, as
a cure or preventive of the madness of so-called friends ; also in the
tales of mythology, of which we Were just now speaking — because

PLATO 327

we do not know the truth about ancient traditions, we make false-
hood as much like truth as we can, and there is use in this.

Very true, he said.

But can any of these reasons apply to God. Can we suppose that
he is ignorant of antiquity, and therefore has recourse to invention?

That would be ridiculous, he said.

The lying poet then has no place in God?

I should say not.

But peradventure he may tell a lie because he is afraid of enemies ?

That is inconceivable.

But he may have friends who are senseless or mad?

But no mad or senseless person can be a friend of God.

Then no motive can be imagined why God should lie?

None.

Then the superhuman and divine is absolutely incapable of false-
hood?

Yes.

Then is God perfectly simple and true both in deed and word;
he changes not; he deceives net, either by dream or waking vision,.
by sign or word.

Your words, he answered, are the very expression of my own
feelings.

You agree with me, I said, that this is the second type or mould
in which we are to cast our ideas about divine things ; the gods are
not magicians who transform themselves, neither do they deceive
mankind in word or deed.

I grant that.

Then, although we are lovers of Homer, we do not love the lying
dream which Zeus sends to Agamemnon; neither will we praise the
verses of Aeschylus in which Thetis says that Apollo at her nuptials

'Was celebrating in song her fair progeny whose days were to
be long, and to know no sickness. And gathering all in one he
raised a note of triumph over the blessedness of my lot, and cheered
my soul. And I thought that the word of Phoebus being prophetic
and divine would not fail. And now he himself who uttered the strain,
he who was present at the banquet, and who said this, he was the very
one who slew my son.'

These are the kind of sentiments about the gods which will arouse
our anger ; and he who utters them shall be refused a chorus ; neither

328 PLATO

shall we allow them to enter into education, meaning, as we do, that
our guardians, as far as men can be, should be true worshippers of
the Gods and like them.

I entirely agree, he said, in the propriety of these principles, and
promise to make them my laws.— The Republic, Bk. II.

TRANSLATION OF B. JOWETT.

COMMUNITY IN THE STATE

Here, then, is one difficulty in our law about women which we
have escaped ; the wave has not swallowed us up alive for enacting
that the guardians- of either sex should have all their pursuits in com-
mon; to the utility and possibility of this the argument is its own
witness.

Yes, he said ; that was a mighty wave which you have escaped.

Yes, I said, but a much greater is coming ; you will not think much
of this when you see the next.

Go on, he said ; let me see.

The law, I said, which is the sequel of this and of all that has pre-
ceded, is to this effect, — 'that the wives of these guardians are to be
common, and their children also common, and no parent is to know
his own child, nor any child his parent.'

Yes, he said, that is a much greater wave than the other ; and the
utility as well as the possibility of such a law is far more doubtful.

I do not think, I said, that there can be any dispute about the very
great utility of having wives and children in common ; the possibility
is quite another matter, and will be very much disputed.

I think, he said, that a good many doubts may be raised about
both questions.

You insist on joining the two questions, I said. Now I meant
that you should admit the utility; and in this way, as I thought, I
should escape from one of them, and then there would remain only
the possibility.

But that little attempt is detected, and therefore you will please
to give a defence of both.

Well, I said, I submit to my fate, yet grant me a little favour : let

PLATO 329

me feast niy mind as day-dreamers are in the habit of feasting them-
selves with their own dreams when they are walking alone ; for before
they have discovered any means of effecting their wishes — that is a
matter which never troubles them — they would rather not tire them-
selves by thinking about possibilities; but assuming that what they
desire is already theirs, they pursue their plan, and delight in detailing
what they are going to do when their wish has come true — that is a
way which they have of not doing much good to a capacity which
was never good for much. And I too am beginning to lose heart, and
would wish to reserve the question of possibility ; and assuming this,
for the present only, if you will allow me I will proceed to enquire what
measures the rulers will take for the execution of the plan, which, if
executed, I will prove to be of the greatest use to the State and to the
guardians. I will ask you, if you have no objection, to assist me, first
of all, in considering the advantages of this, and then I will return to
the question of possibility.

I have no objection ; proceed.

First, I think that if our rulers and their auxiliaries are to be
worthy of the name which they bear, there must be willingness to
obey in the one and the power of command in the other ; the guard-
ians must themselves obey the laws and imitate their spirit in the
details which are entrusted to them.

That is right, he said.

You, I said, in the capacity of their legislator, having selected the
men, will now select the women who are most akin to them and give
them to them, and they will live in common houses and meet at com-
mon meals. None of them will have anything specially his or her
own ; and they will be together and associate at gymnastic exercises,
and be brought up together. And so they will be drawn by a neces-
sity of their natures to have intercourse with each other; neces-
sity is not too strong a word I think?

Yes, he said; — necessity, not geometrical, but another sort of
necessity which lovers know, and which is far more convincing and
constraining to the mass of mankind.

True, I said ; and this, Glaucon, like all the rest, must proceed after
an orderly fashion, — in a city of the blessed, licentiousness is an unholy
thing which the rulers will forbid.

Yes, he said, and so they ought

Then clearly our plan will be to make matrimony as holy as pos-
sible, and the most beneficial marriages will be the most holy ?

V 2-21

330 PLATO

Exactly.

And how can marriages be made most beneficial? — that is a
question which I put to you, because I observe in your house hunting
dogs and of the nobler sort of birds not a few. Now, do tell me, did
you ever attend to their pairing and breeding ?

In what respect ?

Why, in the first place, although they are all of a good sort, are
not some better than others ?

True.

And do you breed from them all indifferently, or do you take care
to breed from the best only?

From the best.

And do you take the oldest or the youngest, or only those that
are of ripe age ?

I choose only those of ripe age.

And if none of this care was taken in the breeding, your dogs and
birds would deteriorate?

Certainly.

And the same principle holds of horses and of animals in general.

Undoubtedly.

Good heavens ! my dear friend, I said, what consummate skill will
our rulers need if the same principle holds of the human species !

Certainly, the same principle holds; but why does this involve
such a high requirement?

Because, I said, our rulers will have to practise upon the body
corporate with medicines. Now you know that when patients do not
require medicines, but have only to be put; under a regimen, the in-
ferior sort of practitioner is deemed to be good enough ; but when
medicine has to be given, then the doctor should be more of a man.

That is quite true, he said ; but what do you mean ?

I mean, I replied, that our rulers will find a considerable dose of
falsehood and deceit necessary for the good of their subjects : we were
saying that they might be used with advantage as medicines.

True, he said.

And this lawful use of them seems likely to be often needed in
the regulations of marriages and births.

How will that be?

Why, I said, the principle has been already laid down tHat tHe
best of either sex should be united with the best as often as possible,
and the inferior with the inferior; and they are to rear the offspring-

PLATO 331

of the one sort of union, but not of the other ; for this is the only way
of keeping the flock in prime condition. Now these goings on must
be a secret which the rulers only know, or there will be a further
danger of our herd, as the guardians may be termed, breaking out into
rebellion.

Very true, he said.

Had we not better appoint certain festivals at which the brides
and bridegrooms will meet, and there will be sacrifices offered and
suitable hymeneal songs composed by our poets : the number of wed-
dings is a matter which must be left to the discretion of the rulers,
whose aim will be to preserve the average of population; and there
are many things which they will have to consider, such as the effects
of wars and diseases and any similar agencies, in order to prevent the
State becoming either too large or too small.

Very true, he replied.

We shall have to invent some ingenious kind of lots which the
less worthy may draw on each occasion of meeting, and then he will
accuse his own ill-luck and not the rulers.

To be sure, he said.

And I think that our braver and better youth, besides their other
honours and rewards, might have greater facilities of intercourse with
women given them ; their bravery is a good pretext, and such fathers
ought to have as many sons as possible.

True.

And the proper officers, whether male or female or both, for offices
are to be held by women as well as by men —

Yes.

The proper officers will take the offspring of the good parents to
the pen or fold, and there they will deposit them with certain nurses
who dwell in a separate quarter ; but the offspring of the inferior, or
of the better when they chance to be deformed, they will conceal in
some mysterious, unknown place. Decency will be respected.

Yes, he said, that will require to be done if the breed of the guard-
ians is to be kept pure.

They will provide for their nurture, and will bring the mothers
to the fold when they are full of milk, taking the greatest possible care
that no mother recognizes her own child ; and other wet-nurses may
be had if any more are required. Care will also be taken that the
process of suckling shall not be tedious to them ; and they will have

332 PLATO

no trouble or getting up at night, but will hand over all this to the
nurses and attendants.

You suppose the wives of our guardians to have a fine easy time
of it when they are having children.

Why, said I, and so they ought. Let us, however, proceed with
our scheme. As we were saying, the parents should be in the prime
of life.

Very true.

And what is the prime of life? May not that be defined as a
period of about twenty years in a woman's life, and thirty in a man's ?

Which years do you mean to include?

A woman, I said, may begin to bear children to the State at twenty
years of age, and continue to bear until forty; a man may begin at
five-and-twenty, when he has passed the point at which the speed of
life is greatest, and continue to beget children until he be fifty-five.

Certainly, he said, both in men and women that is the prime of
physical as well as of intellectual vigour.

Any one above or below those ages who takes part in the public
Tiymeneals shall be said to have done an unholy and unrighteous thing;
lie is the father of a child who, if he steals into life, will have been con-
ceived under other auspices than those of sacrifice and prayers, which
at each hymeneal priestesses and priests and the whole city will offer,
that the new generation may be better and more useful than their good
and useful parents : instead of this his child will be the offspring of
darkness and strange lust.

Very true, he replied.

And the same law will apply to any one of those within the pre-
•scribed age who forms a connection with any woman in the prime of
life without the sanction of the rulers ; for we shall say that he is raising
aip a bastard to the State, uncertified and unconsecrated.

Very true, he replied.

This applies, however, only to those who are within the specified
age : after th.it we allow them to range at will, except that a man may
•not marry his daughter or his daughter's daughter, or his mother or
liis mother's mother; and women, on the other hand, are prohibited
from marrying their sons or fathers, or son's son or father's father,
and so on in either direction. And we grant all this, accompanying
the permission with strict orders to them to do all they can to prevent
any embryo which may come into being from seeing the light ; and if
any force a way to the birth, they must understand that the offspring

PLATO 33»

of such an union cannot be maintained, and make their arrangements-
accordingly.

That also, he said, is a reasonable proposition. But how will
they know who are fathers and daughters, and so on?

They will never know. The way will be this : — dating from the
day of the hymeneal, the bridegroom who was then married will call
all the male children who are born ten and seven months afterwards
his sons, and the female children his daughters, and they will call him
father, and he will call their children's children his grandchildren, and
they will call the elder generation grandfathers and grandmothers.
And those who were born at the same time with them they will terra
brothers and sisters, and they are not to intermarry. This, however,,
is not to be understood as an absolute prohibition of such marriages ;
if the lot favours them, and they have the sanction of the Pythian
oracle, the law will still allow them.

Quite right, he replied.

Such is the scheme according to which the guardians of our State
are to have their wives and families in common. I must now make
the argument prove that this community is consistent with the rest
of our policy, and also that nothing can be better — that is what you
want?

Yes, certainly.

And shall we begin by asking ourselves what we conceive to be
the greatest good, and what ought to be the chief aim of the legislator
in the organization of a State, and what is the greatest evil, and then
consider whether our previous description has the mark and stamp of
the good or of the evil ?

By all means.

And can there be any greater evil than discord and distraction
and plurality where unity ought to reign? or any greater good than
the bond of unity ?

There cannot.

And there is unity where there is community of pleasures and
pains — where all the citizens are glad or sorry on the same occasions ?

No doubt.

Yes ; and where there is no common but only private feeling, that
disorganizes a State — when you have one half of the world triumphing-
and the other sorrowing at the same events happening to the city and
the citizens ?

Certainly.

334 PLATO

Such differences commonly originate in a disagreement about the
use of the terms 'meum,' and 'tuum,' mine and his.

Exactly.

And is not that the best-ordered State in which the greatest num-
ber of persons apply the terms 'mine' and 'not mine' in the same way
to the same thing?

True, very true.

Or that again which most nearly approaches to the condition of
the individual — as in the body, when but a finger is hurt, the whole
frame, drawn towards the soul and forming one realm under the ruling
power therein, feels the hurt and sympathizes all together with the
part affected, and then we say that the man has a pain in his finger;
or again, in any other part, when there is a sensation of pain or pleas-
ure at suffering or alleviation of suffering, the same expression is used ?

Yes, he replied, that is as you say ; and I agree with you that in
the best-ordered State there is the nearest approach to this common
feeling which you describe.

Then when any one of the citizens experiences any good or evil,
the whole State will make his case their own, and either rejoice or
sorrow with him ?

Yes, he said, that will be true in a well-ordered State.

It will now be time, I said, for us to return to our State and see
whether this or any other form is most in accordance with these prin-
ciples.

Very good.

Our State like every other has rulers and subjects.

That is true.

All of whom will call one another citizens ?

Of course.

But is there not another name which people give to their rulers
in other States ?

Generally they call them masters, but in democratic States they
simply call them rulers.

And what name besides that of citizens do the people give the
rulers in our State?

The name of preservers and auxiliaries, he replied.

And what do the rulers call the people ?

Their maintainers and foster-fathers.

And what do they call them in other States?

Slaves.

PLATO 335

And what do the rulers call one another in other States?

Fellow-rulers.

And what in ours?

Fellow-guardians.

Did you ever know an example in other States of a ruler who
would speak of one of his colleagues as a friend and of another as alien
to him?

Yes, that is very common.

And the friend he describes and regards as one in whom he has
an interest, and the other as one in whom he has no interest.

Exactly.

But would any of your guardians speak of one of their fellows as
a friend and of another as alien to him ?

Certainly not; for every one whom they meet will be regarded
by them either as a brother or sister, or father or mother, or son or
daughter, or as the child or parent of those who are thus connected
with him.

That is an admirable answer, I said; but let me ask you one
small question : Will you give them the names of family ties only, or
are they in all their actions to conform to these names ? For example,
in the use of the word 'father', would the care of a father be implied
and the filial reverence and duty and obedience to him which the law
commands? and is the violator of these duties to be regarded as an
impious and unrighteous person who is not likely to receive much
good either from the hands of God or man? Are these to be the
strains which the children will hear repeated in their ears by all the
citizens about their parents and kindred when they are pointed out
to them ?

These, he said, and none other; for what can be more ridiculous
than for them to utter the names of family ties with the lips only and
not to act upon them ?

Then in our city the language of harmony and concord will be
more often heard than in any other. As I was describing before,
when any one is well or ill, the universal word will be 'mine is well'
or 'mine is ill.'

Most true.

And were we not saying also that they would have their pleasures
and pains in common, and that their mode of thinking or speaking
would coincide with the fact?

Yes, and that is true.

336 PLATO

And they will have a common interest in the same which they will
call 'my own/ and having this common interest they will have a com-
mon feeling of pleasure and pain ?

Yes, they will have a far greater community of feeling.

And the reason of this, over and above the general constitution
of the State, will be that the guardians have a community of women
and children?

That will be the chief reason.

And that this unity of feeling will be the greatest good was implied
in our own comparison of a well-ordered State to the relation of the
body and the members, when affected by pleasure or pain?

That was acknowledged, and very rightly.

Then the community of wives and children is clearly the source of
the greatest good to the State?

Certainly.

And this agrees with the other principle which we were affirming,
— that the guardians were not to have houses or lands or any other
property ; their pay was to be their food, which they were to receive
from the other citizens, and they were only to spend in common : that
was all designed to preserve their true character of guardians.

Right, he replied.

Both the community of property and the community of families,
as I am saying, tend to make them more truly guardians; they will
not tear the city in pieces by differing about 'meum' and 'tuum ;' the
one dragging any acquisition which he has made into a private house
which, is his, and which has a separate wife and separate children and
private pleasures and pains ; but all are affected as far as may be by
all the same pleasures and pains because they are all of one opinion
about what is near and dear to them, and therefore all tend towards
a common end.

Certainly, he replied.

And as they have nothing but their persons which they can call
their own, suits and complaints will have no existence among them;
they will be free from all those quarrels of which money or children
or relations are the occasion.

That of course follows.

Neither can trials for assault or insult ever be expected to occur
among them. For that equals should defend themselves against
equals we shall surely maintain to be fair and right; and in this way
we shall oblige them to keep themselves in condition.

PLATO 337

That is good, he said.

Yes ; and there is this further good in the law — that if a man has
cause of offence against another he will satisfy his resentment and be
less likely to make a commotion in the State.

Certainly.

To the elder shall be assigned the duty of ruling and chastising
the younger.

Clearly.

Nor can there be a doubt that the younger will not strike or do
any other violence to an elder, unless the magistrates command him ;
nor is he likely to be disrespectful to him in any way. For there are
two guardians, shame and fear, mighty to prevent him : shame, which
makes men refrain from laying hands on those who are to them in the
relation of parents ; fear, that the injured one will be succoured by the
others who are his brothers, sons, fathers.

That is true, he replied.

Then in every way the laws will help the citizens to keep peace
with one another.

Yes, there will be a certainty of peace.

And as the guardians will never quarrel among themselves there
will be no danger of the rest of the city being divided either against
them or against one another.

None whatever.

I hardly like to speak of the little meannesses of which they will
be rid, for they are beneath mention. Such, for example, as the
flattery of the rich by the poor, and all the pains and pangs of bringing
up a family, finding the money to buy the necessaries of their house-
hold, borrowing and then repudiating, getting how they can, and
giving the money into the hands of women and slaves to keep: what
people suffer in this way is mean enough and obvious enough, and
not worth speaking of.

Yes, he said, a man has no need of eyes in order to perceive that.

And from all that they will be delivered, and their life will be
blessed as the life of Olympic victors and yet more blessed.

How can that be ?

Why, I said, they are counted happy in receiving a part only of
the happiness which is the lot of our citizens, who have won a more
glorious victory and have a more complete maintenance at the public
cost. For the victory which they have won is the salvation of the
whole State; and the crown with which they and their children are

338 PLATO

crowned is the fullness of all that life needs ; they receive rewards from
the hands of their country while living and after death have an hon-
ourable burial.

Yes, he said, they are indeed glorious rewards.

Do you remember, I said, how in the course of the previous dis-
cussion some one who shall be nameless accused us of making our
guardians unhappy — they had nothing and might have possessed all
things — to whom we replied that on some future occasion we might
perhaps consider the question, but that, as at present advised, we
would make our guardians truly guardians, and that we were not
fashioning any particular class with a view to their happiness, but in
order that the whole State might be the happiest possible ?

Yes, I remember.

And what do you say now that the life of our protector is made
out to be far better and nobler than that of Olympic victors ; will you
compare such a life with that of shoemakers, or any other artisans, or
of husbandmen ?

Certainly not.

At the same time I ought to repeat what I was then saying, that
if any of our guardians shall get into his head the youthful conceit,
that he being a guardian ought to have a happiness which would make
him no longer a guardian, and is not content with this safe and har-
monious life, than which, in our judgment, there never was a better,
but shall proceed to monopolize the State, then he will have to learn
out of Hesiod, that he verily was a wise man who said 'half is better
than the whole.'

If he were to consult me, I should say to him: Stay where you
are, having the promise of such a life.

And you agree then, I said, that men and women are to have a
common way of life such as we have described — common education,
common children ; and they are to watch over the citizens in common
whether abiding in the city or going out to war; they are to guard
together, and to hunt together like dogs ; and always and in all things
women are to share with the men ? And this will be for the best, and
in doing this they will not violate the natural relation?

I agree with you, he replied. — The Republic, Bk. V.

TRANSLATION OF B. (JOWETT.

DIOGENES THE CYNIC

DIOGENES THE CYNIC was born about 412 B. C. at Sinope in Asia
Minor. He typifies the theory that the chief good is freedom from
wants. His home at Athens was a tub, and his wealth was on his back.
His life and sayings are a protest against civilization itself, but have
their value as against the luxuriousness of such a civilization as was
that of Athens.

He was captured by pirates and sold in the slave-mart of Crete to
Xeniades of Corinth. He passed the rest of his life as a tutor, dying
about 323 B. C. He left no writings, but some of his most characteristic
sayings are given below.

CHARACTERISTIC SAYINGS

HE WAS very violent in expressing his haughty disdain of others.
He said that the school (schola) of Euclides was gall (chola). And
he used to call Plato's discussions (diatriba) disguise (katatriba). It
was also a saying of his that the Dionysian games were a great marvel
to fools ; and that the demagogues were the ministers of the multitude.
He used likewise to say, "that when in the course of his life he
beheld pilots and physicians, and philosophers, he thought man the
wisest of all animals ; but when again he beheld interpreters of dreams
and soothsayers, and those who listened to them, and men puffed up
with glory or riches, then he thought that there was not a more foolish
animal than man." Another of his sayings was, "that he thought a
man ought oftener to provide himself with a reason than with a halter."

340 DIOGENES

On one occasion, when he noticed Plato at a very costly entertainment
tasting some olives, he said, "O you wise man ! why, after having sailed
to Sicily for the sake of such a feast, do you not now enjoy what you
have before you?" And Plato replied, "By the gods, Diogenes, while
I was there I ate olives and all such things a great deal." Diogenes
rejoined, "What then did you want to sail to Syracuse for? Did not
Attica at that time produce any olives ?" But Phavorinus, in his Uni-
versal History, tells this story of Aristippus. At another time he was
eating dried figs, when 'Plato met him, and he said to him, "You may
have a share of these ;" and as he took some and ate them, he said, "I
said that you might have a share of them, not that you might eat them
all." On one occasion Plato had invited some friends who had come
to him from Dionysius to a banquet, and Diogenes trampled on his
carpets, and said, "Thus I trample on the empty pride of Plato ;" and
Plato made him answer, "How much arrogance are you displaying,
O Diogenes ! when you think that you are not arrogant at all." But,
as others tell the story, Diogenes said, "Thus I trample on the pride
of Plato ;" and that Plato rejoined, "With quite as much pride your-
self, O Diogenes." Sotion too, in his fourth book, states that the Cynic
made the following speech to Plato : Diogenes once asked him for some
wine, and then for some dried figs ; so he sent him an entire jar full ;
and Diogenes said to him, "Will you, if you are asked how many two
and two make, answer twenty? In this way, you neither give with
any reference to what you are asked for, nor do you answer with refer-
ence to the question put to you." He used also to ridicule him as an
interminable talker. When he was asked where in Greece he saw virtu-
ous men ; "Men," said he, "nowhere ; but I see good boys in Lacedae-
mon." On one occasion, when no one came to listen to him while he
was discoursing seriously, he began to whistle. And then when people
flocked round him, he reproached them for coming with eagerness to
folly, but being lazy and indifferent about good things. One of his
frequent sayings was, "That men contended with one another in punch-
ing and kicking, but that no one showed any emulation in the pursuit of
virtue." He used to express his astonishment at the grammarians for
being desirous to learn everything about the misfortunes of Ulysses,
and being ignorant of their own. He used also to say, "That the
musicians fitted the strings to the lyre properly, but left all the habits
of their soul ill-arranged." And, "That mathematicians kept their
eyes fixed on the sun and moon, and overlooked what was under their
feet" "That orators were anxious to speak justly, but not at all about

DIOGENES 841

acting so." Also, "That misers blamed money, but were preposterously
fond of it." He often condemned those who praise the just for being
superior to money, but who at the same time are eager themselves for
great riches. He was also very indignant at seeing men sacrifice to the
gods to procure good health, and yet at the sacrifice eating in a manner
injurious to health. He often expressed his surprise at slaves, who,
seeing their masters eating in a gluttonous manner, still do not them-
selves lay hands on any of the eatables. He would frequently praise
those who were about to marry, and yet did not marry ; or who were
about to take a voyage, and yet did not take a voyage ; or who were
about to engage in affairs of state, and did not do so; and those who
were about to rear children, yet did not rear any ; and those who were
preparing to take up their abode with princes, and yet did not take it up.
One of his sayings was, "That one ought to hold out one's hand to a
friend without closing the fingers."

Hermippus, in his Sale of Diogenes, says that he was taken pris-
oner and put up to be sold, and asked what he could do; and he an-
swered, "Govern men." And so he bade the crier "give notice that
if any one wants to purchase a master, there is one here for him."
When he was ordered not to sit down; "It makes no difference," said
he, "for fish are sold, be where they may." He used to say, that he
wondered at men always ringing a dish or jar before buying it, but
being content to judge of a man by his look alone. When Xeniades
bought him, he said to him that he ought to obey him even though he
was His slave ; for that a physician or a pilot would find men to obey
them even though they might be slaves.

V. And Eubulus says, in his essay entitled, The Sale of Diogenes,
that he taught the children of Xeniades, after their other lessons, to ride,
and shoot, and sling, and dart. And then in the gymnasium he did not
permit the trainer to exercise them after the fashion of athletes, but
exercised them himself to just the degree sufficient to give them a good
colour and good health. And the boys retained in their memory many
sentences of poets and prose writers, and of Diogenes himself; and
he used to give them a concise statement of everything in order to
strengthen their memory, and at home he used to teach them to wait
upon themselves ; contenting themselves with plain food, and drinking
water. And he accustomed them to cut their hair close, and to eschew
ornament, and to go without tunics or shoes, and to keep silent, look-
ing at nothing except themselves as they walked along. He used also
to take them out hunting; and they paid the greatest attention and

342 DIOGENES

respect to Diogenes himself, and spoke well of him to their parents.

On one occasion he saw a child drinking out of its hands, and so
he threw away the cup which belonged to his wallet, saying, "That child
has beaten me in simplicity." He also threw away his spoon, after
seeing a boy, when he had broken his vessel, take up his lentils with a
crust of bread. And he used to argue thus, — "Everything belongs to
the gods ; and wise men are the friends of the gods. All things are in
common among friends ; therefore everything belongs to wise men."

Plato defined man thus: "Man is a two-footed, featherless ani-
mal," and was much praised for the definition ; so Diogenes plucked a
cock and brought it into his school, and said, "This is Plato's man/'
On which account this addition was made to the definition, "With broad
flat nails." A man once asked him what was the proper time for sup-
per, and he made answer, "If you are a rich man, whenever you please ;
and if you are a poor man, whenever you can/' When he was at
Megara he saw some sheep carefully covered over with skins, and the
children running about naked ; and so he said, "It is better at Megara
to be a man's ram, than his son." A man once struck him with a beam,
and then said, "Take care." "What," said he, "are you going to strike
me again ?" He used to say that the demagogues were the servants of
the people; and garlands the blossoms of glory. Having lighted a
candle in the day time, he said, "I am looking for a man." On one
occasion he stood under a fountain, and as the bystanders were pitying
him, Plato, who was present, said to them, "If you wish really to show
your pity for him, come away ;" intimating that he was only acting thus
out of a desire for notoriety. Once, when a man had struck him with
his fist, he said, "O Hercules, what a strange thing that I should be
walking about with a helmet on without knowing it !"

When Midias struck him with his fist and said, "There are three
thousand drachmas for you ;" the next day Diogenes took the cestus of
a -boxer and beat him soundly, and said, "There are three thousand
drachmas for you."

When Plato was discoursing about his "ideas," and using the
nouns "tableness" and "cupness ;" "I, O Plato !" interrupted Diogenes,
"see a table and a cup, but I see no tableness or cupness." Plato made
answer, "That is natural enough, for you have eyes, by which a cup
and a table are contemplated; but you have not intellect, by which
tableness and cupness are seen."

On one occasion, he was asked by a certain person, "What sort
of a man, O Diogenes, do you think Socrates ?" and he said, "A mad-

DIOGENES 343

man." Another time, the question was put to him, when a man ought
to marry ? and his reply was, "Young men ought not to marry yet, and
old men never ought to marry at all." When asked what he would
take to let a man give him a blow on the head ?" he replied, "A helmet."
Seeing a youth smartening himself up very carefully, he said to him,
"If you are doing that for men, you are miserable ; and if for women,
you are profligate." Once he saw a youth blushing, and addressed him,
"Courage, my boy, that is the complexion of virtue." Having once
listened to two lawyers, he condemned them both ; saying, "That the one
had stolen the thing in question, and that the other had not lost it."
When asked what wine he liked to drink, he said, "That which belongs
to another." A man said to him one day, "Many people laugh at you."
"But I," he replied, "am not laughed down." When a man said to him,
that it was a bad thing to live ; "Not to live," said he, "but to live badly."
When some people were advising him to make search for a slave who
had run away, he said, "It would be a very absurd thing for Manes to
be able to live without Diogenes, but for Diogenes not to be able to live
without Manes."

When Craterus entreated him to come and visit him, he said, "I
would rather lick up salt at Athens, than enjoy a luxurious table with
Craterus." On one occasion, he met Anaximenes, the orator, who was
a fat man, and thus accosted him : "Pray give us, who are poor, some
of your belly ; for by so doing you will be relieved yourself, and you
will assist us." And once when he was discussing some point, Diogenes
held up a piece of salt fish, and drew off the attention of his hearers ;
and as Anaximenes was indignant at this, he said, "See, one pennyworth
of salt fish has put an end to the lecture of Anaximenes." Being once
reproached for eating in the market-place he made answer, "I did, for
it was in the market-place that I was hungry." Some authors also
attribute the following repartee to him. Plato saw him washing vege-
tables, and so, coming up to him, he quietly accosted him thus, "If you
had paid court to Dionysius, you would not have been washing vege-
tables." And," he replied, with equal quietness, "if you had washed
vegetables, you would never have paid court to Dionysius." When a'
man said to him once, "Most people laugh at you ;" "And very likely,"
he replied, "the asses laugh at them ; but they do not regard the asses,
neither do I regard them." Once he saw a youth studying philosophy,
and said to him, "Well done ; inasmuch as you are leading those who
admire your person to contemplate the beauty of your mind." —
Diogenes Laertius. TRANSLATION OF c. D. YONGE.

341

ARISTOTLE

ARISTOTLE, the Stagarite, was the son of Nicomachos, the physician
of the king of Macedonia. He was born in 384 B. C, and entered the
Academy under Plato when eighteen. After Plato's death, in 348 B. C,
Aristotle left Athens and in 343 B. C., became the teacher of Alexander.
When Alexander invaded Asia, Aristotle returned to Athens, and
founded a school in the Lyceum. Twelve years later, he was exiled as
a friend of Alexander, and soon after, in 322 B. C., died at Chalcis.

Since Plato had found universal truth only in connection with
classes of things, Aristotle started with an examination of the relation of
the particular to the general. Thus was born logic. He studied the
interrelations of things and made a list of them in the categories. He
took up the nature of Being, and while admitting Plato's theory that the
individual thing exists as it does only because in it the general 'concept
realizes itself, maintained that the general concept exists only in the
individual thing. He argued for the necessity of a First Mover and
its existence as an individuality and a self-conscious mentality, a God
that moves matter but is not moved. This philosophy he applied in his
Ethics to the inner life, and in his Politics to man's social state.

The above points have all been illustrated in his work given below.
He also developed Rhetoric to almost its present advancement, and was
great, also, as a scientist, though out of his extensive collections of data,
no principle was evolved to be handed down to the world.

HERACLES

After Lysippus. In the Louvre.

YSIPPUS was born at Sicyon in Achaea and flourished during the reign
j of AlexandcrvXaror.nd 324 B. C.) He was the only worker in bronze

to whoin that victor gave permission to execute his statue.
The type of Heracles shown, in our photogravure was created by Lysippus.

LE

An <•••••.-'. :,E. the Stagarite, was the son of Nicomachos, the physician

ot tfce king ->i Ala^exkaiia, He was born in 384 B. C., and entered the

AflHfcmy under tTato when eij&u pi. ^Jler Plato's death, in 348 B. C,

•e ieft Athens and in 343 l>. C., became the teacher of Alexander.

^ htm MexaiKior >n««ti»oa 9*1^1 AjM^|AtJraM|IMd to Athens, and

a friend of Alexander, and soon after, in 322 B. C., died at Chair

naiax^^qf^i^ ..-^.L ai ^. iviH. ii.,;rtcJ fi.;

asnoid rti ia>how vino 3fli 2B'w ^H (.3 .'
classr

tbOn''/ -i;jo ni P •

tool ,^

- <rt»eral' concept
xists only in
• -. •:**.t. jwf \\'f ,•»—-»-," r.f :. First Mover

and a ?*4f-«g«*e»o<i«» m«r«tali*'.
* , i - •** v< »tw>r«<1. Thi^ t>hih>*OffeY he n* r
» «» lw« Politic? to man's social rtate.

^s of data.

345

FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTIONS IN LOGIC

ENUMERATION OF THE CATEGORIES.

OF THINGS incomplex enunciated, each signifies either substance,
or Quality, or Relation, or Where, or When, or Position, or Possession,
or Action, or Passion. But Substance is (to speak generally), as
"man," "horse;" Quantity, as "two" or "three cubits;" Quality, as
•"white," a "grammatical thing;" Relation as "a double," "a half,"
"greater;" Where, as "in the Forum," "in the Lyceum;" When, as
"yesterday," "last year ;" Position, as "he reclines," "he sits ;" Posses-
sion, as "he is shod," "he is armed ;" Action, as "he cuts," "he burns ;"
Passion, as "he is cut," "he is burnt." Now each of the above, con-
sidered by itself, is predicated neither affirmatively nor negatively, but
from the connexion, of these with each other, affirmation or negation
arises. For every affirmation or negation appears to be either true or
false, but of things enunciated without any connection, none is either
true or false, as "man," "white," "runs," "conquers."

Substance, in its strictest, first, and chief sense, is that which is
neither predicated of any subject, nor is in any ; as "a certain man," or
"a certain horse." But secondary substances are they, in which as
species, those primarily-named substances are inherent, that is to say,
both these and the genera of these species ; as "a certain man" exists
in "man/' as in a species, but the genus of the species is "animal ;"
these, therefore, are termed secondary substances, as both "man" and
"animal " But it is evident from what has been said, that of those
things which are predicated of a subject, both the name and the defini-
tion must be predicated of the subject, as "man" is predicated of "some
certain man," as of a subject, and the name, at least, is predicated, for
you will predicate "man" of "some certain man," and the definition
of man will be predicated of "some certain man," for "a certain man"

V '2-22

346 ARISTOTLE

is both "man" and "animal ;" wherefore both the name and the defini-
tion will be predicated of a subject. But of things which are in a
subject, for the most part, neither the name nor the definition is pred-
icated of the subject, yet with some, there is nothing to prevent the
name from being sometimes predicated of the subject, though the
definition cannot be so; as "whiteness" being in a body, as in a subject,
is predicated of the subject (for the body is termed "white"), but the
definition of "whiteness" can never be predicated of body. All other
things, however, are either predicated of primary substances, as of sub-
jects, or are inherent in them as in subjects; this, indeed, is evident,
from several obvious instances, thus "animal" is predicated of "man,"
and therefore is also predicated of some "certain man," for if it
were predicated of no "man" particularly, neither could it be of "man"
universally. Again, "color" is in "body,'" therefore also is it in "some
certain body," for if it were not in "some one" of bodies singularly, it
could not be in "body" universally ; so that all other things are either
predicated of primary substances as of subjects, or are inherent in
them as in subjects; if therefore the primal substances do not exist,
it is impossible that any one of the rest should exist.

But of secondary substances, species is more substance than genus ;
for it is nearer to the primary substance, and if any one explain what
the primary substance is, he will explain it more clearly and appro-
priately by giving the species, rather than the genus ; as a person defin-
ing "a certain man" would do so more clearly, by giving "man" than
"animal," for the former is more the peculiarity of "a certain man,"
but the latter is more common. In like manner, whoever explains
what "a certain tree" is, will define it in a more known and appropriate
manner, by introducing "tree" than "plant." Besides the primary sub-
stances, because of their subjection to all other things, and these last
being either predicated of them, or being in them, are for this reason,
especially, termed substances. Yet the same relation as the primary
substances bear to all other things, does species bear to genus, for
species is subjected to genus since genera are predicated of species, but
species are not reciprocally predicated of genera, whence the species
is rather substance than the genus.

Of species themselves, however, as many as are not genera, are
not more substance, one than another, for he will not give a more ap-
propriate definition of "a certain man," who introduces "man," than
he who introduces "horse," into the definition of "a certain horse ;" in
like manner of primary substances, one is not more substance than

ARISTOTLE 347

another, for "a certain man" is not more substance than "a certain
ox." With reason therefore after the first substances, of the rest,
species and genera alone are termed secondary substances, since they
alone declare the primary substances of the predicates; thus, if any
one were to define what "a certain man" is, he would, by giving the
species or the genus, define it appropriately, and will do so more clearly
by introducing "man" than "animal ;" but whatever else he may intro-
duce, he will be introducing, in a manner, foreign to the purpose, as
if he were to introduce "white," or "runs," or any thing else of the
kind, so that with propriety of the others, these alone are termed sub-
stances. Moreover, the primary substances, because they are subject
to all the rest, and all the others are predicated of, or exist in, these,
are most properly termed substances, but the same relation which the
primary substances bear to all other things, do the species and genera
of the first substances bear to all the rest, since of these, are all the rest
predicated, for you will say that "a certain man" is "a grammarian,"
and therefore you will call both "man" and "animal" "a grammarian,"
and in like manner of the rest.

It is common however to every substance, not to be in a subject,
for neither is the primal substance in a subject, nor is it predicated of
any; but of the secondary substances, that none of them is in a sub-
ject, is evident from this ; "man" is predicated of "some certain" sub-
ject "man," but is not in a subject, for "man" is not in "a certain man."
So also "animal" is predicated of "some certain" subject "man," but
"animal" is not "a certain man." Moreover of those which are, in the
subject, nothing prevents the name from being sometimes predicated
of the subject, but that the definition should be predicated of it, is im-
possible. Of secondary substances, however, the definition and the
name are both predicated of the subject, for you will predicate the
definition of "a man" concerning "a certain man," and likewise the
definition of "animal," so that substance may not be amongst the num-
ber of those things which are in a subject.

This, however, is not the peculiarity of substance, but difference
also is of the number of those things not in a subject ; for "pedestrian"
and "biped" are indeed predicated of "a man" as of a subject, but are
not in a subject, for neither "biped" nor "pedestrian" is in "man."
The definition also of difference is predicated of that, concerning which
difference is predicated, so that if "pedestrian" be predicated of "man,"
the definition also of "pedestrian" will be predicated of man, for "man"
is "pedestrian." Nor let the parts of substances, being in wholes as in

348 ARISTOTLE

subjects, perplex us, so that we should at any time be compelled to say,
that they are not substances; for in this manner, things would not be
said to be in a subject, which are in any as parts. It happens indeed
both to substances and to differences alike, that all things should be
predicated of them univocally, for all the categories from them are
predicated either in respect of individuals or of species, since from the
primary substance there is no category, for it is predicated in respect
of the individual, but genus in respect both to species and to indi-
viduals, so also differences are predicated as to species and as to indi-
viduals. Again, the primary substances take the definition of species
and of genera, and the species the definition of the genus, for as many
things as are said of the predicate, so many also will be said of the sub-
ject, likewise both the species and the individuals accept the definition
of the differences: those things at least were univocal, of which the
name is common and the definition the same, so that all which arise
from substances and differences are predicated univocally.

Nevertheless every substance appears to signify this particular
thing: as regards then the primary substances, it is unquestionably
true that they signify a particular thing, for what is signified is indi-
vidual, and one in number, but as regards the secondary substances, it
appears in like manner that they signify this particular thing, by the
figure of appellation, when any one says "man" or "animal," yet it is
not truly so, but rather they signify a certain quality, for the subject
is not one, as the primary substance, but "man" and "animal" are
predicated in respect of many. Neither do they signify simply a cer-
tain quality, as "white," for "white" signifies nothing else but a thing
of a certain quality, but the species and the genus determine the qual-
ity, about the substance, for they signify what quality a certain sub-
stance possesses : still a wider limit is made by genus than by species,
for whoever speaks of "animal," comprehends more than he who
speaks of "man."

It belongs also to substance that there is no contrary to them, since
what can be contrary to the primary substance, as to a certain "man,"
or to a certain "animal," for there is nothing contrary either at least
to "man" or to "animal ?" Now this is not the peculiarity of substance,
but of many other things, as for instance of quantity; for there is no
contrary to "two" cubits nor to "three" cubits, nor to "ten," nor to any
thing of the kind, unless some one should say that "much" is contrary
to "little," or "the great" to "the small;" but of definite quantities,
none is contrary to the other. Substance, also, appears not to receive

ARISTOTLE 349

greater or less; I mean, not that one substance is not, more or less,
substance, than another, for it has been already said that it is, but that
every substance is not said to be more or less, that very thing, that it is ;
as if the same substance be "man" he will not be more or less "man ;"
neither himself than himself, nor another "man" than another, for one
"man" is not more "man" than another, as one "white thing" is more
and less "white" than another, and one "beautiful" thing more and less
"beautiful" than another, and "the same thing" more or less than
"itself ;" so a body being "white," is said to be more "white" now, than
it was before, and if "warm" is said to be more or less "warm." Sub-
stance at least is not termed more or less substance, since "man" is not
said to be more "man" now, than before, nor any one of such other
things as are substances; hence substance is not capable of receiving
the greater and the less.

It appears, however, to be especially the peculiarity of substance,
that being one and the same in number, it can receive contraries, which
no one can affirm of the rest which are not substances, as that being
one in number, they are capable of contraries. Thus "color," which
is one and the same in number, is not "white" and "black," neither the
same action, also one in number, both bad and good ; in like manner
of other things- as many as are not substances. But substance being
one, and the same in number, can receive contraries, as "a certain
man" being one and the same, is at one time, white, and at another,
black, and warm and cold, and bad and good. In respect of none of
the rest does such a thing appear, except some one should object, by
saying, that a sentence and opinion are capable of receiving contraries,
for the same sentence appears to be true and false ; thus if the state-
ment be true that "some one sits," when he stands up, this very same
statement will be false. And in a similar manner in the matter of
opinion, for if any one should truly opine that a certain person sits,
when he rises up he will opine falsely, if he still holds the same opinion
about him. Still, if any one, should even admit this, yet there is a
difference in the mode. For some things in substances, being them-
selves changed, are capable of contraries, since cold, being made so,
from hot, has changed, for it is changed in quality, and black from
white, and good from bad : in like manner as to other things, each one
of them receiving change is capable of contraries. The sentence indeed
and the opinion remain themselves altogether immovable, but the thing
being moved, a contrary is produced about them ; the sentence indeed
remains the same, that "some one sits," but the thing being moved, it

350 ARISTOTLE

becomes at one time, true, and at another, false. Likewise as to opin-
ion, so that in this way, it will be the peculiarity of substance, to re-
ceive contraries according to the change in itself, but if any one ad-
mitted this, that a sentence and opinion can receive contraries, this
would not be true. For the sentence and the opinion are not said to be
capable of contraries in that they have received any thing, but, in that
about something else, a passive quality has been produced, for in that
a thing is, or is not, in this, is the sentence said to be true, or false, not
in that itself, is capable of contraries. In short, neither is a sentence
nor an opinion moved by any thing, whence they cannot be capable of
contraries, no passive quality being in them ; substance at least, from
the fact of itself receiving contraries, is said in this t<3 be capable of
contraries, for it receives disease and health, whiteness and blackness,
and so long as it receives each of these, it is said to be capable of
receiving contraries. Wherefeore it will be the peculiarity of sub-
stance, that being the same, and one in number, according to change
in itself, it is capable of receiving contraries; and concerning sub-
stance this may suffice.

OF PROPOSITION, TERM, SYLLOGISM, AND ITS ELE-
MENTS

It is first requisite to say what is the subject, concerning which,
and why, the present treatise is undertaken, namely, that it is concern-
ing demonstration, and for the sake of demonstrative science; we must
afterwards define, what is a proposition, what a term, and what a syl-
logism, also what kind of syllogism is perfect, and what imperfect;
lastly, what it is for a thing to be, or not to be, in a certain whole, and
what we say it is to be predicated of every thing, or of nothing (of
a class).

A proposition then is a sentence which affirms or denies something
of something, and this is universal, or particular, or indefinite ; I de-
nominate universal, the being present with all or none ; particular, the
being present with something, or not with something, or not with every
thing : but the indefinite the being present or not being present, without
the universal or particular (sign) ; as for example, that there is the
same science of contraries, or that pleasure is not good. But a demon-
strative proposition differs from a dialectic in this, that the demonstra-

ARISTOTLE 351

tive is an assumption of one part of the contradiction, for a demon-
strator does not interrogate, but assume, but the dialectic is an interro-
gation of contradiction. As regards however forming a syllogism from
either proposition, there will be no difference between one and the
other, since he who demonstrates and he who interrogates syllogize,
assuming that something is or is not present with something. Where-
fore a syllogistic proposition will be simply an affirmation or negation
of something concerning something, after the above-mentioned mode :
it is however demonstrative if it be true, and assumed through hypo-
theses from the beginning, and the dialectic proposition is to him who
inquires an interrogation of contradiction, but to him who syllogizes,
an assumption of what is seen and probable, as we have shown in the
Topics. What therefore a proposition is, and wherein the syllogistic
demonstrative and dialectic differ, will be shown accurately in the fol-
lowing treatises, but for our present requirements what has now been
determined by us may perhaps suffice. Again, I call that a "term," into
which a proposition is resolved, as for instance, the predicate and that
of which it is predicated, whether to be or not to be is added or sepa-
rated. Lastly, a syllogism is a sentence in which certain things being
laid down, something else different from the premises necessarily
results, in consequence of their existence. I say that, "in consequence
of their existence," something results through them, but though some-
thing happens through them, there is no need of any external term
in order to the existence of the necessary (consequence). Wherefore
I call a perfect syllogism that which requires nothing else, beyond (the
premises) assumed, for the necessary (consequence) to appear: but
an imperfect syllogism, that which requires besides, one or more things,
which are necessary, through the supposed terms, but have not been
assumed through propositions. But for one thing to be in the whole
of another, and for one thing to be predicated of the whole of another,
are the same thing, and we say it is predicated of the whole, when
nothing can be assumed of the subject, of which the other may not be
asserted, and as regards being predicated of nothing, in like manner.

352

AN EXAMINATION INTO EXISTENCE

CHAPTER I.

THE SUBJECT OF SPECULATIVE SCIENCE is Being, for the first prin-
ciples and causes of substances are under investigation. Being is
not only the most fundamental constituent of the universe, if it be
regarded as one whole, but if things exist in harmony with the cate-
gories, Being would be first in order, then quality, then quantity;
though it is true that the other categories such as qualities and motions
do not have any absolute existence at all, and the same is the case with
(such negatives as) not-white or not-straight, notwithstanding the
fact that we use such expressions as "not-white exists."

No one of the other categories, then, implies an independent
existence. This statement is corroborated by the work of the philo-
sophers of antiquity, for it was the principles and causes and elements
of Being that were from time to time investigated. The philosophers
of the present era, to be sure, have rather sought to maintain that
universals are essences, for general concepts are universals and they
hold these concepts to be first principles and essences, probably because
their method of investigation has sprung from logic. The philosophers
of old, however, regarded particular things to be themselves essences,
for example, fire and earth, but not body in general.

There are three kinds of essences. Two of these may be appre-
hended by the senses, one of them being eternal and the other subject
to decay, as plants and animals. Whether the sensible essence which
is eternal has one or many elements is open to discussion. The third
essence is unchangeable and is maintained by some to have an inde-
pendent existence. This again, certain persons make of two kinds,
while others consider as of the same nature Ideas (general concepts)
and mathematical entities, whereas still others admit only the latter to
be essences.

The first two kinds of essences belong to physical science, for they
are subject to alterations. The third essence, on the supposition that
there is no principle common to all three, belongs to a separate science.

ARISTOTLE 353

CHAPTER IL

Substances that can be perceived by the senses are subject to
change. Now on the theory that changes take place between the
things that are contrary to each other or intermediate between these
contraries, and not between all things that are different (for example,
voice is not a thing that becomes white) something must exist able to
undergo a differentiation into contrary states, for the contrary states
themselves do not change. This underlying substance, moreover, no
doubt continues permanent, but its contrary states do not continue
permanent; hence, there must exist a third something besides these
contraries, — that is, matter. If then, changes are of four kinds, accord-
ing to quiddity, or quality, or quantity, or location : and if simple
generation and degeneration are the changes according to quiddity;
increase and lessening, according to quantity; alteration according to
quality; and motion according to place, — if all this is the case, I say,
the several changes, such as are involved in particular things, would
take place into contrary states. Hence, it is necessary for matter to be
able to undergo a change into contrary states.

As the nature of an individual thing is two-fold, everything which
undergoes a change, is changed from that which is an individuality in
possibility, into an existence in actuality, as for example, from what
is white in capacity or potentiality into what is white in actuality. The
same is the case with increase and diminution. Wherefore, it is not
only possible that all things may spring from a non-individuality (as
matter) by accident, but it is likewise true that all things take their
generation from a previous individuality, I speak of what is an exist-
ence in potentiality taking its generation from a nonentity in action.

This (that all things are from one matter) is the unit of Anaxa-
goras (for it is better to believe this than those philosophers who
think that all things exist at the same time) ; and it is equivalent to the
philosophic doctrine of mixture maintained by Empedocles and Anaxi-
mander'and is somewhat like the supposition of Democritus that all
things existed at the same time in potentiality but not actually.

Here, then, these philosophers would allude to matter, that is,
the material cause. All things, however, that undergo a change involve
matter, but different individual things involve different matter and the
things that are eternal, if they are subject to a cycle of changes, even

354 ARISTOTLB

though not to actual generation, involve matter, though not matter
subject to generation, but merely to motion from place to place.

One might raise the inquiry — from what kind of non-individuality
generation can arise? Now non-existence is itself of a three- fold
nature. If something else actually exists, generation may proceed
from this, though not from anything whatsoever, but one particular
thing will be generated from another. It is not enough to say that
all things exist at once, for existences differ in the matter involved. If
not, why would not one thing only be generated, rather than things
infinite in number? The human mind, for example, is such a unity.
If matter, also, were a unity, all would have come into actual existence
of which the matter alone exists in potentiality.

Therefore there are three (inherent) causes and three elements.
Two resulting in contraries of which one sort constitutes the formal
principle and the species ; and the second lack of such a principle, while
the third cause is matter.

CHAPTER III.

It now remains for us to inform our readers that neither matter
or form is generated. I speak thus of things in their ultimate condi-
tion. For everything that passes through any change is altered both
by something and into something. I mean by that which is the first
imparter of motion; by of something I mean of matter; and by into
something I mean the form (imparted to it). Now the progression
extends to infinity, if (for example) not only the brass becomes spheri-
cal, but the spherical (form) or the brass (matter) is also generated.
Hence we must sooner or later make a stop in the series.

After this investigation we must show how each substance springs
from one synonymous with itself, for those things generated by nature
as well as other things are substances. Now, things are produced by
art or by nature or by chance or of their own accord. Art indeed,
involves a first principle that exists in another agent, whereas nature
involves a first principle that exists in the thing itself — thus, man begets
man.

The remaining causes are those not included under art or nature.

Essences are also three in number. One of these is matter, which
is the certain particular thing because of its manifestation as such,
for whatever things are (organic) unities and not merely united by

ARISTOTLE 355

cohesion involve both matter and a subject. Another of these essences
is the nature of the individual thing, and in this nature there is the
handing down of a certain uniformity. The third essence is that which
results from these two, and is classified as the individual thing itself,
(for example) Socrates or Callias.

In some cases, therefore, the individual thing involves no existence
except that of a composite substance, thus the form of a house (has
no independent existence), unless art itself is this form. Neither is
there any generation or decay of such forms, but in one way they are,
and in another are not, the part of the house itself that is unconnected
with matter; and of health (also) and everything that is produced by
art. If forms exist at all, it is in connection with those things that
are generated by nature ; wherefore Plato was doubtless wise in affirm-
ing that forms belong to whatever things involve a natural existence,
on the theory of the existence of forms separate from and independent
of these natural objects, such (for example) as fire, flesh, the head,
etc. For all these things are matter and belong to being itself, — I
mean to such a description of matter as is ultimate.

Thus some causes, those that impart motion, exist as individual
things previously generated, whereas other causes, acting as the formal
elements are generated at the same time as their results.

When a man is healthy, sound health is present with him and
the form of the brazen sphere exists at the same time as the brazen
sphere.

Whether anything remains after the separation of the form from
the matter we must examine. In case of some forms there is no dif-
ficulty in this occuring. Such a case might be that of the soul — not,
to be sure, of every soul, for that this should be so of every soul, is
perhaps not possible.

It is evident therefore, that it need1 not necessarily follow on
account of these facts that ideas should have a separate existence, for
man begets man, the individual begets another individual, and the case
is similar with the arts, for the art of medicine is the formal principle
of health.

CHAPTER IV.

In regard to causes and first principles, they in a way differ inas-
much as they belong to different things, yet in another way this is

356 ARISTOTLE

not true. Speaking generally, and by analogy, the causes and first
principles of all things may be said to be the same. Yet one might raise
the inquiry whether the first principles and elements of substances, and
of things that have only a relative existence, such as is the case with
the categories, are different or the same; yet for the principles and
elements of all things to be the same would be absurd, for relatives
would take their existence from the same things as substances. What
could this (underlying) unity) be? for besides substances and the rest
of the categories predicted of things, there is nothing (in them) that
is common. The element, however, is prior to the things of which it is
an element, but certainly substance is neither an element of relatives,
nor is any one of these relatives an element of substance. But how is
it possible for there to be one element for all things? for none of the
elements can be identical with a compound of the elements, as, for
instance, neither B nor A can be the same as BA. Neither, moreover,
can one element of the things that are intellectual, as, for example,
unity or individuality, be the essence of all things, for these also are
present in compounds. None of them, then, will exist independently
either as a substance or quality, (though they may in some other way).
The elements of all things, therefore, are not identical.

Or shall we say, as already affirmed, that in one way it is true (that
the elements of things are identical) and in another way not? as in
regard to sensible bodies that which is hot exists in a way as a form,
and cold in a way exists as the absence of heat; while on the other
hand matter exists as that which primarily and essentially embraces
both of these in potentiality and substances, moreover, include both
these things and such as consist of the things of which these are first
principles.

If any individual thing is produced from what is hot or what is
cold, for example, flesh bone, yet what is thus generated must be
different from heat and cold. The first principles and elements of
these things I acknowledge are the same, but there are different ele-
ments to different things. We cannot say without doubt that the case
stands in this way with all things, but by analogy the elements and
first principles of all things would be the same.

We might thus say that there are three elements of individuality ;
form and lack of form and matter. Each of these, however, varies as
it is connected with each different genus — as color — white, black,
surface, light, darkness, air and from these combined come forth day
and night.

ARISTOTLE 357

Since, however, not only forms that are inherent (in the individual
thing) are causes, but also external things, as, for example, what im-
parts motion, it is evident that a first cause may be different from an
element (inherent cause), yet both are causes and into these is the
first principle divided. What exists as the imparter of motion or rest
may constitute in a way a first principle and essence.

Thus there are existing three elements, according to analogy,
but four causes and first principles. Where the subject is different, the
cause is different ; the first cause is, as it were, the imparter of motion
and varies as the individual effect varies, — thus health may be con-
sidered the formal cause, disease lack of it, the body matter, while the
imparter of motion is the art of medicine. Once more, a house is the
formal cause — a confusion of the materials the lack of it (or limiting
cause), the bricks are the matter (or material cause), and the imparter
of motion, or the efficient cause, is the art of the architect. Into such
causes is the first principle divided.

Since the imparter of motion to physical or natural things is man ;
and to things springing from the mind is form or the lack of it, from one
point of view there would be three causes, from another four, for the
art of the physician produces health, the art of the builder the form
of the house, and man man. In addition to these, as that which is the
primary principle of all things, is the something which imparts motion
or is the efficient cause of all things.

CHAPTER V.

Since some things involve an independent existence and others do
not, the former are substances and these must be considered the causes
of all things, because the passive conditions and affections of things
do not involve an existence independent of substances. Such substances
will further constitute soul and body, or understanding and desire and
body. In another way also, first principles are the same. Consider, for
instance, the case of energy (or actuality) and capacity (or potentiality) .
These, both vary as the individual things that involve them vary and
they exist in different ways, for in some things the same thing exists
sometimes actually, and sometimes only potentially — as in wine or
flesh, or in man. Nevertheless, these both are included in the list of
the causes above mentioned, for form, no doubt, is an actuality, if it
be something which has an independent existence and which is a re-

368 ARISTOTLE

suit of both potentiality and actuality. This is also the case with the
lack of something — for example, such a thing as darkness, or a creature
which is not well, but matter exists in potentiality, for it is endowed
with the possibility of becoming both contrary states. Yet, in another
way, those things which involve different matter and different form,
differ actually and potentially. The cause of a man, that is, the ma-
terial cause, is both the elements fire and earth. Another cause is his
proper form and anything extrinsic, if this there be, such I mean, as his
father; besides these, the sun and the oblique circle, which are neither
material, nor formal, nor limiting causes, nor of the same species,
but imparters of motion . Further, we should note as regards causes,
that some are universal and some not. The original first principles
of all things are those which actually existed in the first thing and
whatever else existed in potentiality. Universals — that is, class con-
cepts— have practically no separate existence, for the individual thing
is a cause of the individual. Man, to be sure, is the formal principle
of every man, yet no universal man exists, so Peleus is the cause of
Achilles, and your father of you, and this particular letter B is the cause
of the syllable BA.

In the next place, the forms of t/he substances are first principles,
but there are various causes and elements in various things, as has
been stated. Thus, the elements of things, not belonging to the same
genus, such as colours, sounds, substances, quantities, are not the same
except by analogy.

The causes, too, of the things that do belong to the same species
vary, though not in species. But since the matter in individual things
differs, both your matter and form and that which imparts action and
the species differ in their constituents from mine, though considering
the universal as the formal principle, they are the same. Hence, as to
the question, — What are the first principles or elements of substances
and of relations and qualities, whether they are identical or vary — it is
clear, that, if things are spoken of altogether, the same principles and
elements are involved in everything, but if things are spoken of sepa-
rately, the first principles of each are not identical, but different. Thus
they are the same by analogy, I grant, because there is matter, form,
and the lack of it, and that which gives motion. In like manner the
causes of substances are the causes of all things, because, if the sub-
stances should be destroyed, all things would be destroyed; moreover,
that which is first, must exist in actuality. And seeing that these

ARISTOTLE 359

primary things are neither to be considered genera, nor spoken of alto-
gether, they differ, for some of them are contraries. Moreover, dif-
ferent kinds of matter are also called causes. We have then stated
what the first principles of sensibles are, of what kind they are, and
how they are the same and how different.

CHAPTER VI.

Since there have been discovered three essences — two natural or
physical and one unchangeable, we must attempt, in regard to this
unchangeable essence, to demonstrate that it is an eternal, unchange-
able substance, for the first of individual things were substances,
and if we suppose all of them to be changeable, then all things are
changeable. It is impossible, however, that in such a case, motion
should either be generated or stopped, for it must have always been
in existence and the same is true with duration, for it is impossi-
ble for there to be anything prior or subsequent, if time or duration
has no existence. Motion, then, is thus continuous as is also duration,
for duration is either the same as motion or a certain state of rest. But
there is no motion that is continuous except a local or topical motion.
This involves the circular form. Yet, without doubt, in the case of
anything capable of being moved or causing motion, but not actually
doing so, motion will have no existence, for it is possible for the
potential not to become the actual. Thus even if we could make
essences eternal as those do, who consider forms or ideas to be such
essences, yet there is nothing gained, unless there is also assumed
some first principle able to produce a change. Nor would eternal ele-
ments be able to do this, nor would anything but the forms themselves
exist, for if the essence cannot act there will be no motion in existence.
Nor will there be if the substance do act, unless the essence thereof
is a potentiality, for there will not exist any perpetual motion since
it is possible for that to exist in actuality. It is necessary, then, for
there to be a first principle of this nature, the essence of which is
energy. Moreover, such principles cannot involve a connection with
matter, for they must be eternal, if anything at all is to be eternal.
They must then exist as an energy. This, however, involves some
doubt, for it might seem proper that what acts should exist entirely
in a state of potentiality, and that everything endowed with capability
should not fully act. For this reason we might suppose potentiality

360 ARISTOTLE

(as of matter) to be a thing that precedes actuality, but if this were
true, no individual thing need be in existence, for it is possible for a
thing to possess the power of existing and yet not exist.

If, however, the truth were as the theologians say, I mean those
who generate all things from Night — or as the natural philosophers
say, who declare all things to have (always) existed at the same time,
the same difficulty will follow. For how, may I inquire, will matter be
set in motion, if there be nothing actually existing as a cause. The
material of a house will not move of its own accord, but the builder's
art will move it, nor does the menstrual blood move itself, nor earth,
but seeds and human seed.

Hence, some philosophers, as Leucippus and Plato, fall back upon
an energy that is always acting. For they declare motion to be always
in existence, but why, and of what kind, they do not say, nor how this is
true. Nor do they add a cause of this perpetual motion. Now noth-
ing is set in motion without cause, but there must always be some indi-
vidual cause in existence. Thus, a thing is moved in this way by
nature, and again by some force, either mind or something else in a
different way.

What is the nature, then, of the primordial motion ? for this must
be able to vary as much as possible. But Plato certainly cannot call
that the first principle, which he sometimes so considers, which im-
parts motion to itself; for he (also) says that subsequent to and yet
coincident with the world is the soul. Hence the assumption, then, of
the previous existence of potentiality to actuality (or energy) is in one
way correct but in another not. And how this is so has been ex-
plained.

The possibility that energy (or actuality) is antecedent to potenti-
ality is maintained by Anaxagoras, ( for the understanding exists as an
energy), and by Empedocles in his doctrine of Harmony and Discord,
and this is corroborated in the thesis of certain thinkers such as Leucip-
pus about the existence of perpetual motion. Chaos or night, there-
fore, did not exist for an eternity, but the same things always existed
as do now, either in a system of cycle-like changes, or otherwise, that
is, supposing energy to be prior to potentiality.

On the other supposition then, that each individual thing has always
been part of a circle of changes, there must be something that continually
puts forth energy in a way (to create things). And, besides, if genera-
tion and degeneration are to follow (one upon the other) there must
be, also, an energy acting at one time to create and at another to destroy.

ARISTOTLE 361

Now it must either act in this way by its very nature, of its own accord,
or in some other way, for some other cause. In other words, it must
act in harmony with what is primary or original. But it certainly must
act in accord with what is primary, for what is primary is a source
of energy both to itself and what is secondary. Therefore the primary
substance is the highest cause ; for the primary substance is the cause
of the individual things continually coming into existence in a like
form, while something else would be the cause of the manifestation
of energy in different ways. But of the continual coming into existence
of things in different ways, both the primary substance and the primary
energy would be the cause. Hence it is that motions occur in this way.
Why then, need we look for other first principles ?

CHAPTER VII.

But since the truth lies thus, — (and it surely does), for if not,
things would spring from Night and from all things at the same time
and from nothing — the above question may be decided that there is
always something in existence, which is being moved with a perpetual,
that is, a cycle-like, motion. This is evident, not merely from reason,
but from the facts themselves. Hence, the first universe would be
eternal. There is also then, something that causes motion. Since that
which has motion imparted to it and which in turn, imparts motion,
can be only a medium, there is, therefore, something which, not being
acted upon, yet acts, which is eternal and at the same time both sub-
stance and energy.

It causes movement in the same way as what is desirable and what
is intelligible cause (our) movements, although they are not themselves
moved. But the basis of these qualities is the same. For the object
of our desire is that which appears worthy of approval, while the thing
selected to begin with by our will, actually is approved. Now we de-
sire a thing because it appears choice ; it does not appear choice because
we desire it. For the perception is a first cause, but the judgment is
decided by what is intelligible, and the second relation (choice worthi-
ness) includes essentially what is intelligible. The first substance is
interrelated with this desire and judgment, and that absolute substance,
which exists as an energy, consists of this desire and judgment. What
is simple or absolute, however, is not the same as unity, but absolute
defines the way in which the thing itself exists. Certainly, however,

V 2—23

362 ARISTOTLE

both what is choiceworthy and what is desirable for its own sake belong
to the same set of relations. And what is first is invariably the most
excellent, or amounts to that which is analogous to it. That the final
cause (of things) exists in something itself immovable, the above
analysis makes evident, for the final cause of anything is something
which is in existence, while the thing caused is not. Now that which
first causes motion, does so as a thing that is loved, and what has motion
(thus) caused in it causes in turn motion in other things.

If indeed, a thing is acted upon, it need not exist as an energy.
Therefore, we suppose that the primary motion is an energy also, as
much as the thing is moved, it is possible for this motion to change in
place, but not in nature. Since, however, there is something which
causes motion, though itself immovable and itself an energy — this can-
not change the nature of its existence, for the primary motion and
especially that which is circular is the cause of these changes, but the
First Mover imparts motion to that.

Moreover, this immovable First Mover must be an individuality
and inasmuch as it necessarily exists, insomuch is its existence an
excellent one. And in this way does it constitute a first principle, for
what is necessary exists in these ways ; first through what is accom-
plished by force because opposed to free will ; second, as that without
which a thing does not exist in perfection ; third, as that which could
not be different from what it is, but has an absolute existence. From a
First Principle then, of this nature, such I mean, as embraced in the
supposition of a First Mover, have sprung heaven and nature. The life
of this First Mover, which our own life for a limited time resembles,
is of the nature that is the best. The First Mover, to begin with, con-
tinues in the enjoyment of the life principle eternally. With us, of
course, such a thing would be impossible, but not so with the First
Mover, since energy or activity itself causes pleasure or satisfaction on
his part; because vigilance, activity of the senses, and perception in
general are most fruitful of pleasure or satisfaction. The case is the
same with the expectations and memories.

Now the perception of such an Essence is the perception of what
is in its essence the best, and the perception most characteristic of such
an Essence is the perception which is most essential. The mind, how-
ever perceives itself by becoming part of what falls as its object within
its province, for it becomes an object of perception by a laying-hold-of
and an act of mental apprehension. Thus the mind and the object of
its own perception are the same, for what receives the impressions

ARISTOTLE 363

of objects and is itself an essence is the mind, and while receiving
these impressions, it is exerting energy or, existing in a state of activity.

(Such contemplation) seems to belong to the First Mover rather
than to the mind of mortals. It is a divine characteristic which our
mind appears to possess. This contemplation is what is most agree-
able and excellent. If then, God, has in this way so excellent an
eternal existence, such a one as we have for a limited time, the Divine
Nature is worthy of admiration, and if he possesses it in a still greater
degree, the Divine Nature will be still more admirable. The Deity,
then, will be likely to exist in this manner, and at all events, the prin-
ciple of life is inherent in him, for the energy or activity of the mind
is life, and God, as shown i.bove, is this energy. Energy as an essence
is part of God, or belongs to God, as his highest and eternal life. Our
statement is, that the Deity is a Being that is eternal and of the highest
nature. So that with the Deity, life and time are uninterrupted and
everlasting, for this 'constitutes the very being of God.

Many philosophers, however, such as the Pythagoreans and Speu-
sippus, maintain the ground that what is best and most perfect is not to
be found in the first principle of things, because though the first princi-
ples both of plants and animals are causes, yet what is best and perfect
is only in the created things which are the results of these first princi-
ples; but those who have these opinions have not formed them correctly.
The (undeveloped) seed springs from other natures that are antecedent
and developed. And seed is not the first thing, but that which is com-
pleted is ; so we may say that a man exists prior to the seed, not the man
which is being generated from the seed, but another, from whom the
seed springs. It is evident from the statements made above that there
exists an eternal Essence that is unchangeable; and has an existence
independent of sensibles. It has also been shown that it is impossible
for this Essence to have any magnitude, but that it is devoid of parts
and indivisible. For it causes motion throughout eternity and nothing
finite involves infinite potentiality. Now every magnitude is either
finite or infinite and for the reason mentioned, such a substance would
not be a finite magnitude, and it cannot involve an infinite magnitude,
because, in brief, there is no infinite magnitude in existence. Un-
doubtedly, also, it has been shown that such a being is neither acted
upon nor changeable, for all other movements are subsequent to that
which is internal or local. These points, then, show why the Deity is
liable to exist in this way. — The Metaphysics, Bk. XL

364

THE BASIS OF ETHICS

AND HERE we will close this digression, and return to the question
of what is that highest human good of which we are in quest. It is
clear that every course of action and every art has its own peculiar
good ; for the good sought by medicine is one, and the good sought by
tactics is another; and of all other arts the same rule holds. What,
then, is in each case the chief good ? Surely it will be that to which all
else that is done is but a means. And this in medicine will be health,
and in tactics victory, and in architecture a house, and so forth in other
cases ; and in all free action, that is to say in all purpose or conscious
choice of means to a desired end, it will be that end ; for it is with this
in view that we always take all the other steps in the particular action.
And so, if there be but one end of all things that we do, this will be,
in all human action, the chief good; while, if there be more than one,
it will be their sum. Our argument, therefore, has now returned to the
question from which is originally digressed, and which we must endea-
vour yet more thoroughly to clear up. Now, since there are clearly
many and diverse ends, some of which we occasionally choose as means,
such as wealth, or pipes, or instruments generally, it is evident that all
of these various ends cannot be final ; whereas the chief good is clearly
a something absolutely final. So that, if there be but one thing alone
that is final, this will be the good of which we are in quest; and, if
there be more than one, then it will be the most final among them.
Now we call that which is pursued for its own sake more final than that
which is pursued as a means to something further ; and that which is
never chosen as a means we call more final than any such things as are
chosen both as ends in themselves and as means to this ; while, to sum
up, we call that alone absolutely final which is in all cases to be chosen
as an end, and never as a means. And happiness would seem to be
pre-eminently such; for happiness we always choose as an end, and
never as a means ; while honour, and pleasure, and reason, and, gener-
ally, every kind of virtue we do indeed choose as ends (for we should
choose each one of them, even if they bore no good fruit) , but we choose
them also for the sake of happiness, thinking that by their means we

ARISTOTLE 365

shall be happy. But happiness itself no man ever chooses for the sake
of these things, or indeed as a means to aught beyond itself. And the
all-sufficiency of happiness clearly leads to the same conclusion; for
the final human good is always held to be all-sufficient. Nor do we
understand that the range of this all-sufficient is to be restricted to the
individual in a life of isolation, but rather hold that it also includes his
parents, and his children, and his wife, and indeed his friends generally,
and his fellow-citizens, since man's true nature is to be citizen of a free
state. And yet some limit must be fixed herein ; for were one so to ex-
tend this as to take in a man's ancestors, and his descendants, and the
friends of his friends, the circle would become infinite. This question,
however, we will consider at some other time, and for the present will
define as all-sufficient that which alone and by itself can make our life
desirable, and supply all our needs. And we are of opinion that happi-
ness is such. And, moreover, happiness is the most desirable of all
things, in that there is nothing else which is on a par with it, and so
capable of being added to it. Were not this so, then the addition of
any such other good, no matter how small, would evidently render it
more desirable. , For such addition would constitute a surplus of good ;
and of any two goods the greater is always the more choiceworthy.
Happiness, then, is clearly a something complete in itself, and all-suffi-
cient, forming the one end of all things done by man.

But still to say nothing more about happiness than that it is the
greatest of all goods is clearly but little better than a truism, and one
seems to yearn for a yet more exact and definite account. This we shall
most probably obtain from the consideration of what it is that man, as
man, has to do. For, as in the case of flute players, and of sculptors,
and of all craftsmen, and indeed of all those who have any work of their
own to do, or who can originate any special train of action, it is in this
their especial work or function that their chief good and greatest welfare
lie, so too ought it to be in the case of man as man, if as man he has
any special functions of his own. Are we then to believe that man as
carpenter, or that man as cobbler, has a function of his own, and so can
originate an especial course of action ; while as man he lacks this, and
has no task assigned him by nature ? Shall we not rather say that ex-
actly as the eye, and the hand, and the foot, and each of the various
members, evidently has its office, so too, beyond and beside all these,
must be assigned an office to man, as such? And, if so, what are we
to say that this office is? Life he has in common even with plants,
whereas what we seek is that, whatever it is, that is especial and peculiar

366 ARISTOTLE

to himself. The life of mere nutrition and growth may therefore be set
aside. Next to this in order is what may be called the life of the senses.
But even this is shared by horses, and by oxen, and by beasts. There
only remains what may be described as a life of free moral action,
belonging to that part of us which possesses reason, and which may
possess it, either as being obedient to its commands, or as properly
possessing and exercising it in consecutive thought. And, as this life
can be conceived in two aspects, we will take it in its active state, for
then more properly is it called life. If, then, the function or office of
man as such be an active life or activity of the soul in accordance with
reason, or at least not without reason, and if we say that the work of
such an one and that of such an one who is good of his sort differ not in
kind, as in the case of a harper and of a good harper — and if we are to
say this in every case, our conception of the work itself remaining unal-
tered by any additional excess of excellence ; a harper's work being to
play the harp, and the work of a good harper to play it well — if all this
be so, and if we are to take as the function of man a certain kind of
life, and to make this life consist in an activity of the soul, that is to say,
in moral action consciously accompanied by reason ; and to take as the
function of the good man the doing all this well and perfectly, remem-
bering that it is its own excellence alone that causes each thing to be
well and properly completed — then, if all this be so, we shall find that
the chief good of man consists in an activity of the soul in accordance
with its own excellence (or, in other words, such that the essential con-
ditions of its excellence are fulfilled), and, if there be many such excell-
encies or virtues, then in accordance with the best and the most perfect
among them. And we must further add the condition of a complete
life ; for a single day, or even a short period of happiness, no more
makes a blessed and a happy man than one sunny day or one swallpw
a spring.

And now, since happiness is an activity of the soul in accordance
with perfect virtue, we must inquire what is virtue ; for thus perhaps
we shall be in a better position to consider the nature of happiness. He
who is a political philosopher in the true sense of the word will give
virtue his most thorough attention, his object being to make the citizens
good, and, so, obedient to the laws. And, as instances of this, we have
the lawgivers of Crete and of Lacedaemon, and all such others as are
upon record like to these. And so, since the discussion of virtue is the
province of political science, it is clear that the present investigation will
harmonize with our original purpose. We have therefore to consider

ARISTOTLE 367

virtue, that is to say, of course, the virtue of man ; for it was man's high-
est good, and man's happiness, of which we were in quest. And by
man's virtue we understand not that of the body but that of the soul,
since we have defined happiness as an activity of the soul. And, if
this be so, it is clear that the politician must no less know about the
soul than he who is to heal the eye must know about the body as a whole,
and all the more so in that the art political is higher and nobler than is
medicine. And indeed physicians of the higher and better sort interest
themselves no little in the knowledge of the body as a whole. And
hence it follows that the politician must consider about the soul, and
must consider it with this end in view, that is to say so far only as is
sufficient for our present object; for further minuteness of discussion
would only entail more labour than is needed for our purpose. Now,
concerning the soul, even ordinary language lays down certain sufficient
distinctions, of which we will make use ; as, for example, that the soul
has two parts, the one irrational, the other possessed of reason.
Whether these parts are distinct in the same sense as the members of
the body, and all else that is capable of physical division, or rather are
only distinct in thought, being in their own nature absolutely insepar-
able, exactly as are concavity and convexity in an arc, is a question
immaterial to our purpose. And, again, of the irrational part itself,
there is yet a further part that would seem to be common to man with
other living things, and to form the soul of plants. I speak of that
principle which is the cause of all nutrition and growth. For a vital
faculty of this nature one assigns to all things that assimilate nutriment,
as even to the foetus ; and this self-same faculty one also assigns to the
full-grown being, since such a substitution is more reasonable than it is
to hold that any substitution has taken place. Any excellence or virtue
that this part of our soul possesses is clearly not peculiar to man, but
is shared by him with animals and with plants. It is in sleep, indeed,
that this part or faculty of our soul is most active, and it is in sleep that
the good man and the bad are least distinguishable from one another ;
whence has come the saying, that for one half their lives the happy in
no way differ from the wretched. Nor could we expect it to be other-
wise. For sleep is a torpor of our soul, in so far as it can be called
morally good or bad, save only where to some slight extent certain of
the movements of active life carry themselves on into our slumber, and
so render the dreams of the good better than are those of ordinary men.
On these matters, however, we have now said enough, and here we will
close our discussion of the nutritive soul, since nature has given it no

368 ARISTOTLE

part in that virtue which is peculiarly human. And, again, there would
seem to be another element in the soul, which also is irrational, and
which yet to some extent partakes of reason. For, in the self -restrained,
and also in the incontinent man, we give praise to their reason, that is
to say to the rational portion of their soul, for that it exhorts them as is
right, and to the best course. But there is clearly, in each of them, a
something else, of its own nature opposed to reason, which conflicts
with reason, and strives to counteract it. For, exactly as a palsied limb,
when a man purposes to move it to the right, swings round on the con-
trary to the left, so too is it with the soul of the incontinent man ; for
his impulses run counter to his reason. Only, whereas in the body
we can see the part that so moves, in the soul we cannot see it. And
yet, perhaps, we must none the less on this account hold that there is in
the soul an element contradistinguished from reason, which sets itself
in opposition to reason, and goes its way against it ; although wherein
precisely it is distinct from reason concerns us not. And yet even this
part too has clearly, as we have said, some share in reason, for in the
self -restrained man it certainly obeys his reason. And, in the man
who is thoroughly temperate and brave, it is perhaps yet more amen-
able ; for in him all his members are in harmony with reason. Hence,
then, it clearly appears that the irrational part of our soul has two mem-
bers, of which one, the nutritive, is in no way concerned with reason ;
while the other, the concupiscent, or, more generally, the appetitive part,
in a certain sense partakes of reason, in so far as it listens to reason,
and obeys its commands. It is in this sense that we speak of showing
a rational obedience to one's father, or to one's friends, and not in that
in which we speak of a rational understanding of mathematical truths.
And, that the irrational part of our soul is to some extent amenable to
reason, all admonition, all rebuke, all exhortation, is a proof. And
hence, since even this part of our souls is in a certain sense to be called
rational, it follows that the rational element in us will also have two
parts, the one in its own right possessing reason in itself, while the
other is obedient to reason, as is a son to his father. And, in accord-
ance with this division, we can classify the virtues, and call some of
them intellectual and others moral — philosophy, appreciation, and pru-
dence being excellences or virtues of the intellect, while liberality and
temperance are moral virtues, or virtues of the character, we do not say
that he is a philosopher, or a man of quick appreciation, but that he is
gentle or temperate. And yet we none the less praise the wise man

ARISTOTLE 369

also for his state of mind, and understanding by virtue a praiseworthy
state of mind.

II.

I. There are, then, two kinds of virtue, the intellectual and the
moral, of which the intellectual owes, for the most part, its birth and
growth to a course of inference, so that for its perfection it needs ex-
perience, and consequently length of time ; while moral virtue, on the
other hand, is acquired by habit ; the very word 'moral,' indeed, varying
but little etymologically from its root, 'habit.' And hence too it is clear
that no one of the moral virtues is an innate law of our nature. For
no law of nature can be altered by habit. A stone, which of its own
nature moves downwards, no force of habit will ever accustom to move
upwards, nor would one ever habituate it to such a motion by hurling
it upwards any number of times. Neither could fire be thus brought to
move downwards, nor, in short, can the action of any natural law what-
ever be altered by habituation. Neither, then, are the moral virtues an
innate law of our nature, nor is their acquisition a contravention of any
such law ; but nature has given us a capability for them, and we become
perfected in them by habituation. And, again, in the case of all things
innate or connate in us, we have the faculty first, and afterwards we
manifest its acts. Of this the senses are a clear instance, for we did not
acquire them by repeated acts of sight, or of hearing ; we did not, that
is to say, acquire these faculties by practising their acts ; but, on the con-
trary, we had the faculty in question before we practised its acts. But
the virtues we acquire by previous practice of their acts, exactly as we
acquire our knowledge of the various arts. For, in the case of the arts,
that which we have to be taught to do, that we learn to do by doing
it. We become masons, for instance, by building ; and harpers by play-
ing upon the harp. And so, in like manner, we become just by doing
what is just, temperate by doing what is temperate, and brave by doing
what is brave. And to this the practice of States bears witness, for
lawgivers make the citizens virtuous by a course of habituation. It is
this that every lawgiver has in view ; all want of success in this respect
argues defective legislation; and it is herein that a good State differs
from a bad. And, moreover, it is from and by acts of the same kind
that all virtue has both its development and its decay, exactly as has
all artistic skill. For it is by playing upon the harp that men become

370 ARISTOTLE

either good harpers, or else bad ; and of masons, and indeed of all other
craftsmen, the same rule holds good. For if men build well they will
become good masons, and if badly bad. Were not this so, no art would
have needed an apprenticeship, but men would have been either good
craftsmen or else bad from the very first. And so, too, is it with the
virtues. For, accordingly as we bear ourselves in our transactions
with other men, so do we become either just or unjust ; and, accordingly
as we bear ourselves in dangers, and accustom ourselves to act as cow-
ards or as brave, so do we become either cowards or brave. And of all
lust, and of all anger, the same rule holds good. For men become1
either temperate and gentle, or intemperate and hasty, accordingly as
they bear themselves in such matters either one way or the other. And,
indeed, in a word, it is by acts of like nature with themselves that all
habits are formed. And hence it becomes our duty to see that our acts
are of a right character. For, as our acts vary, our habits will follow
in their course. It makes no little difference, then, to what kind of
habituation we are subjected from our youth up ; but it is, on the con-
trary, an important matter, or, rather, all-important.

Since, then, the present treatise is not intended like certain others
to give mere abstract knowledge, — for our investigations are not under-
taken merely that we may know what virtue is (else wherein would
they benefit us?), but rather that we may ourselves become virtuous,
— we must therefore now consider after what fashion we are to mould
our acts. For it is our acts, as we have said, that determine the char-
acter of our habits. That they must be in accordance with right reason
is an element common to them with other things, and which may with
safety be assumed of them ; and what this right reason is, and what is
its relation to the virtues, we will hereinafter explain. And here again,
before proceeding further, it must be understood that all statements
concerning human action are to be taken as being true only in rough
outline, and not as being mathematically exact; as indeed we said at
first when we showed that only such proof is to be expected as the
matter admits. Men's actions and interests are no more a matter of
fixed rule than are the conditions of health. And, since the general
principles of morality are of this nature, still less accurate will be their
application to particular cases. Such application falls under no known
art or traditional system of rules, so that we must, on the occasion of
each separate action, be to a great extent guided by the circumstances
of the time, exactly as we are in the practice of medicine and of naviga-
tion. But, albeit that the difficulties of the present subject are such,

ARISTOTLE 371

we must none the less do the best that we can. First of all, then, we
may observe that in all human matters excess and defect are alike
prejudicial ; as we can see (to take things seen for evidence of things
unseen) in the case of strength and of health. For too much and too
little exercise both alike destroy our strength ; and in like manner too
much meat and drink, and too little, both alike destroy our health;
while to eat and to drink in moderation, and to take exercise in modera-
tion, both produces, and increases, and preserves health and strength.
And so, too, is it with temperance, and with bravery, and with the other
virtues. For he who shuns all dangers, and who is frightened at
everything, and who never bears a bold front, becomes a coward ; while
he who never fears anything at all, and who enters upon every venture,
becomes fool-hardy. And so, too, he who takes his fill of every pleas-
ure, and who refrains from none, becomes depraved ; while he who
shuns all pleasures alike, as do the churlish, becomes insensible. For
both temperance and bravery are destroyed by excess and by defect,
and are preserved in perfection by moderation. And not only is it
from and by the same kind of acts that all virtue has its birth, and its
increase, and its decay, but it is also in this same class of acts that the
energies in which it manifests itself will lie. And in more obvious
matters, such as strength for example, the same rule holds good. For
strength is produced by eating much food, and by undergoing much
severe labor, and no one can do this so well as he who is strong. And
so, too, is it with the virtues. For by abstaining from pleasures we
become temperate, and when temperate we are best able so to abstain.
And the same rule holds good of bravery. For by accustoming our-
selves to bear our soul above all terrors, and to confront them boldly,
we become brave. And it is when we are brave that we shall best be
able to meet dangers with a bold front. And as the test of our habits
we must take the pleasure or the pain that results from our acts. For
he who abstains from the pleasures of the body, and who takes delight
in such abstinence, is a temperate mah, while he to whom such abstin-
ence gives pain is "depraved. And he who faces danger, and does so
with delight, or at any rate without pain, he is brave; while he who
feels pain in acting thus is a coward. It is, indeed, with pleasure and
with pain that moral virtue is concerned ; for it is pleasure that leads
us into disgraceful acts, pain that forces us to abstain from acts noble.
So that, as Plato says, we ought to have been trained from our youth
up to feel pleasure and pain in fitting objects ; for this, and tbis alone,
is good education. Moreover, since it is our actionr>, that is to say our

372 ARISTOTLE

emotions, that are the field of moral virtue, and since either pleasure of
pain follows upon every emotion, and upon every action, it becomes
clear that virtue is concerned with pleasure and with pain. And pun-
ishment, which is inflicted in the shape of pain, is a proof of this. For
punishment is intended as a moral medicine, and the nature of all
medicines is to act as the contraries of the diseases which they cure.
And moreover, as we have said before, all mental habits are of their
very nature directed towards and concerned with those same things
by which they are made either better or worse. And it is through the
action of pleasures and of pains that they become bad, in that we
pursue, or, as the case may be, avoid these pleasures or pains either
when they are such that we ought not to do so, or upon wrong occa-
sions, or in a wrong manner; or fall into some other of the various
forms of error that are logically conceivable. And hence it is that
virtue has been defined as a state of tranquillity and of freedom from
emotion, — but inaccurately. For this definition is too general, needing
such additions as, "as we ought," "as we ought not," "when we ought,"
and all such other determinations as are logically possible. And we
may therefore regard it as established that moral virtue is concerned
in such a manner with pleasures and with pains as to produce from
them the best possible results, — vice the worst. The following con-
siderations will also serve to make the matter clear. There are three
things that determine us for pursuit, and three for avoidance ; the good,
the useful, and the pleasant, and their three contraries, the bad, the
hurtful, and the painful. And with respect to all of these the judgment
of the virtuous man is unerring, and that of the vicious man prone to
error; but most of all is it so with respect to pleasure. For pleasure
is a motive which man shares with the animals, and which is an ele-
ment in all objects of choice ; since even the good and the useful are,
both, clearly pleasant. Moreover, the love of pleasure has been nur-
tured within us from our cradle, and it is hard to bleach our lives of
an emotion with which they have been thus ingrained. Moreover,
pleasure and pain are as a rule by which we measure our actions, some
amongst us more exactly, some less. So that with them our treatise
as a whole must perforce "deal. For it makes no little difference to
our actions whether we feel pleasure and pain as we ought, or whether
we feel them as we ought not. Moreover, it is harder to fight with
pleasure than, as Heraclitus says, with anger. Ancl it is always with
that which is the more difficult that all art and all virtue are concerned ;
for in such a matter to do well is the more excellent. So that, for this

ARISTOTLE 373

reason again, both virtue, and with it the art political, the object of
which is virtue, will be entirely concerned with our pleasures, and with
our pains; which whoso uses well, the same will be good; whoso
badly, bad.

Thus, then, have we shown that virtue is concerned with pleasures
and with pains ; and that, if the acts from which it has its birth con-
tinue to be done in like manner, it waxes ; while, if they be done other-
wise, it wanes; and, further, that the field wherein its acts lie is the
same as that from which it had its birth.

But again, a difficulty arises as to the exact meaning of our asser-
tion that we must do just acts if we wish to become just, and temperate
acts if we wish to become temperate. For, it may be said, if men do
acts which are just and temperate, they cannot but be already just and
temperate ; exactly as, for a man to produce a grammatical or a musical
result, he must already be a grammarian or a musician. But then is
this quite true even of the arts? Is it not possible, for example, to
spell a word correctly by chance, or from dictation? Whereas then,
and then only, can a man be said to be a grammarian when he has pro-
duced a grammatical result, and produced it grammatically, that is to
say in virtue of a knowledge of grammar which he himself possesses.
And, even were this not so, there is no such exact analogy between the
arts and the virtues. The excellence of art lies in its results, and it is
therefore quite sufficient if these results be so produced as in themselves
to fulfil certain required conditions. But moral acts are not said to be
done virtuously, as justly, for example, or temperately, if in themselves
they fulfil certain conditions, but only when certain conditions are
fulfilled by him who does the act. In the first place, he must know what
it is that he is doing. Secondly, he must act with deliberate purpose,
and must choose the act for its own sake. Thirdly, he must so act
from a fixed and unalterable habit of mind. Now, as regards our
artistic skill, none of these conditions need be taken into any account,
except that we must know what it is that we are doing. But, where
virtue is concerned, such mere knowledge is in itself of little or of no
import, while the other conditions (which are only to be acquired by
repeated practice of just and of temperate acts)~ are so far from being
of but little weight that tHey are the only things that are of any weight
at all. Our actions, then, are said to tie just ancl temperate when they
are such as the just or temperate man would do. While the just or
temperate man is not merely he who does such acts, but he who does
them as do the just and temperate. It is with good reason, then, that

374 ARISTOTLE

we assert that the just man becomes such by doing1 just acts and the
temperate man by doing temperate acts, while that, if he refrain from
such acts, a man will never have even a prospect of becoming virtuous.
But the many do not act upon this rule ; they rather betake themselves
to mere talk about what is right, deluding themselves into the belief
that they are philosophers, and are consequently upon the high road
to virtue; but, in reality, acting not unlike a sick man who listens
attentively to his physicians, and then carries out none of their advice.
And, as surely as such treatment will never give a healthy body, so
such philosophy as this will never give a healthy soul.

Let us after this, inquire what is the genus of virtue. Now, since
there are but three possible kinds of mental states or conditions, to-wit,
emotions, capabilities, and habits, one of these three classes must be the
genus of virtue. As instances of emotions may be named lust, anger,
fear, pride of strength, envy, delight, affection, hatred, longing, emula-
tion, pity, or in a word any immediate state of mind followed by a
pleasure or by a pain ; while a capability or faculty is that in virtue of
which we are said to be capable of such or such an emotion, as of anger
for instance, or of pain or of pity; and a habit is that in virtue of
which we stand in a certain relation towards our emotions for good
or for bad ; our relation to anger, for example, being bad, if we feel
anger either too violently or over slightly, but good if we feel it in
moderation. And so, too, is it with all the other emotions. Now
neither the virtues nor the vices' are Demotions. For with reference to
our emotions we are not spoken of as good or bad, as we are with
reference to our virtues and our vices. And, again, with reference to
our emotions no praise or blame is ever given to us. A man, for
example, is never praised for being afraid, or for being angry; nor is
a man blamed for simply feeling anger, but for the manner in which
he feels it. 'But with reference to our virtues and our vices we are
praised and blamed. Moreover, neither anger nor fear springs from
purpose, whereas the virtues, if not to be absolutely identified with
purpose, most certainly involved such purpose, and imply it. And, again,
with reference to the emotions we say that a man is thus or thus
affected, but with reference to the virtues and the Vices we 3o not
talk of his affection, but of his disposition. Hence, too, it follows that
the virtues and the vices are not mere capabilities. For we are not
said to be good or bad, nor are we praised or blamed, in that we are
simply capable of feeling such or such an emotion. And, moreover,
our capabilities are either innate or connate, which our virtues and

ARISTOTLE 374

our vices are not, as we have said before. So that, since the virtues
are neither emotions, nor capabilities, it remains that they must be
habits.

Thus, then, we have ascertained what is the genus of virtue. It
remains to determine its differentia, and to say wherein it can be dis-
tinguished from other habits. We must premise that every excellence
or virtue perfects that thing of which it is the virtue, and causes it to
discharge its especial function well. This special excellence of the eye,
for example, makes the eye good, and perfects its function; for it is
only by the virtue of the eye that we can see well. So, too, the excel-
lence of the horse makes it a good horse, swift, and strong to carry
its rider, and bold to face his enemies. And if this be true, as it is in
all cases, it follows that the virtue of man will be such a habit as will
make him a good man, and enable him to discharge his especial func-
tion well. And how this is to be brought about we have already said ;
but we shall make the 'matter yet clearer if we consider wherein exactly
it is that the nature of moral virtue consists. In everything that is
continuous, and consequently capable of division, we can mark off an
amount which will be either more than, or less than, or equal to the
remainder; and can do so either objectively, that is to say with refer-
ence to the matter in question, or subjectively, that is to say with
reference to ourselves. Now that which is equal is a mean between
excess and defect. And by the means of the matter I understand that
which, as is the point of bisection in a line, is equally distant from
either extreme, and which is for all persons alike one and the same.
But by the means with reference to ourselves I understand that which
is neither too much for us nor too little, and which consequently is not
any one fixed point which for all alike remains the same. If, for exam-
ple, ten pounds be too much and two pounds be too little, we take as
the mean with reference to the matter six pounds, which itself exceed
two pounds by as much as they are exceeded by ten. / This is what is
called a mean in arithmetical progression. But the mean with reference
to ourselves must not be thus fixed. For it does not follow that, if
ten pounds of meat be too much to eat, and two pounds be too little,
our trainer will therefore order us six pounds. This may be either too
little for him who is to take it, or too much. For Milo, for example,
it would be too little, while for one who is to begin training it would
be too much. And in running, and in wrestling, the same rule holds
good. And so, too, all skilled artists avoid the excess and the defect,
while they seek and choose the mean, that is to say not the absolute but

376 ARISTOTLE

the relative mean. And since it is thus that all skilled knowledge per-
fects its results, by keeping the mean steadily in view, and by model-
ling its work upon it, whence it comes that we are wont to say, at the
termination of any good work, that neither to it can anything be added,
nor from it can anything be taken away ; inasmuch as excess and defect
destroy perfection, while moderation preserves it ; since, then, all good
artists, as we have said, always work with the mean in view, and since
virtue is, as also is nature, more exact and higher than is any art, it
follows that virtue also will aim at the mean. And when I say virtue
I mean moral virtue, for moral virtue is concerned with our emotions,
that is to say with our actions ; and in these excess and defect are to be
found, and also moderation. Fear, for example, and confidence, and
desire, and anger, and pity, and, generally, any pleasure or pain, we
can feel both more and less than we ought, and in either case we feel
them not well. But to feel them when we ought, and at what we ought,
and towards whom we ought, and for the right motive, and as we
ought — in all this lies the mean, and, with the mean, perfection ; and
these are the characteristics of virtue. And so, too, with reference to
our actions, no less than our emotions, excess and defect are possible,
and with them consequently moderation. Now virtue is concerned
with our emotions and with our actions. It is in these that excess is an
error, and that defect is blamed as a fault; while moderation meets
with praise and with success, both of which things are marks of virtue.
And hence it is that all virtue is a mean, in that it aims at that which is
the mean. Moreover, the forms of wrong are manifold (for evil is of
the infinite, as said the allegory of the Pythagoreans, and good of the
finite), while of right the form is but one. Hence the one is easy, the
other hard; easy is it to miss, hard to hit our aim. And from this
again it follows that to vice belong excess and defect, and to virtue
belongs moderation.

One path hath righteousness, but many sin.

Moral virtue, then, is a certain formed state, or habit of purpose,
which conforms to the relative mean in action, and which is determined
to that mean by reason, or as the prudent man would determine it.
And it is the mean between two vices, the one of which consists in
excess, and the other in defect. So that the vices sometimes fall short
of what is right in our emotions and in our actions, and sometimes
exceed it, while virtue finds the mean and chooses it. And conse-
quently in its essence, and by its real definition, virtue is a mean ; but

ARISTOTLE 377

as regards perfection and goodness it is an extreme. It is not every
action, however, or every emotion that allows of moderation. There
are some the very name of which is sufficient to class them with the
vices; such as are, for instance, malice, shamelessness, envy, among
our emotions ; and among our acts, adultery, theft, and homicide. For
all these things, and all others such, are blamed in that they are abso-
lutely bad in themselves, not in that the excess or the defect of them
is bad. In such matters one can never act rightly, but is always wrong ;
nor can one talk upon such occasions of behaving ill, or of behaving
well; as, for example, by committing adultery with whom one ought,
and when one ought, and as one ought; for to do any one of these
things is wrong, whatever be the circumstances of the case. One
might as well insist upon a mean and an excess and a defect of injus-
tice, and of cowardice, and of debauchery; so making a mean in an
absolute excess, and a defect in an absolute defect. Whereas, just as
there can be no excess or defect in temperance, or in bravery, — such a
mean being as it were the indivisible point at the apex of a triangle,
— so, too, in the case of the vices above quoted, neither a mean nor an
excess nor a defect is possible ; but under whatever circumstances such
acts are committed they are wrong. For, to sum up, the mean of an
excess or of a defect, no less than the excess or the defect of a mean,
is a self -contradictory conception.

But we must not rest content with a statement thus purely general ;
we must also confirm it by an application to particulars. In all ques-
tions of human action broad generalisations are apt to be void of con-
tent, and consequently unsatisfactory, the truth rather lying in par-
ticular propositions. For the field of action lies in particulars, and
with these particulars our generalisations must concord. Our con-
firmatory instances we will draw from the recognized catalogue of the
virtues. Now, with regard to the emotions of fear, of pride, and of
strength, bravery is the mean. Of those who run into excess, he who
shows excess of fearlessness has no name (as, indeed, is the case with
many moral states), and he who runs into excess of pride of strength
is foolhardy; while the coward is he who is either over- fearful, or
deficient in proper confidence. Temperance, again, is a mean, and
debauchery is an excess, not with respect to all pains and pleasures,
but only to some, and concerned with pleasures rather than with pains.
That a man's sense of pleasure should be deficient is a case that rarely
or never occurs, and hence such a character has as yet found no name.
But, provisionally, such men may be called insensible or ascetic. With

V 2-24

378 ARISTOTLE

respect to the giving and the taking of money, the mean is liberality,
the excess and the defect are prodigality and illiberality. These vices
are contradictorily opposed to each other, each being an excess of
that of which the other is a defect. For the prodigal runs into excess
in the giving of money, but in taking his due into defect; while the
illiberal man is over-greedy in the receipt of money, and in giving it
falls short of the true mean. We are now giving a mere summary out-
line, such being for the present sufficient for our purpose. Hereinafter
these various states shall be more minutely described. With regard
to money there are also certain other moral states. Magnificence is a
mean (the magnificent man differing from the liberal in that the latter
is concerned with small matters, the former with great), while its
excess is bad taste and vulgarity; and its defect is pettiness. These
two vices differ from the excess and the defect of liberality; and
wherein the difference consists we will hereafter show. And, again,
with regard to honor and dishoner, the mean state is high-mindedness ;
its excess is what has been called "chirking vanity," and its defect
is feebleness of spirit. And, in like manner as we said when we con-
trasted magnificence with liberality that liberality differed from it in
that it was concerned with small sums, so, too, is there a virtue which
stands in a similar relation to high-mindedness, dealing with small
honor, while high-mindedness deals with great. For one can aim -at
honor both as one ought, and more than one ought, and less than one
ought. He whose craving for honor is excessive is said to be ambi-
tious, and he who is deficient in this respect unambitious ; while he who
observes the mean has no peculiar name. Indeed, all these states are
really nameless, except that of the ambitious man, which is known as
ambition. Hence it arises that those who have run into either extreme
lay claim to the mean, as a kind of border march ; and hence, too, we
at times call him who is in the mean state ambitious, and at times again
we call him unambitious. And on some occasions we praise the ambi-
tious man, and on others again the unambitious man. Our reasons for
this shall be given hereafter ; meantime let us complete our enumera-
tion of the virtues, drawing our distinctions by the aid of the method
which has guided us all along. Anger, again, admits of an excess, and
of a defect, and of a mean. These states can hardly be said to have any
names of their own; but, as we call him gentle who is in the mean
state, we hence will call the mean state itself gentleness; while, of
those who fall into the extremes, he who errs on the side of excess may
be called hasty, and his vice is hastiness ; he whose error is one of defect

ARISTOTLE 379

spiritless, and the defect in question want of proper spirit. And there
are also three other mean states, which to some extent resemble one
another, and are yet distinct. They resemble one another in that they
are all concerned with the daily intercourse of men in their speech and
in their actions, and they are distinct in that the one is concerned with
what is truthful in such matters, and the other two with what is pleas-
ant. And of these two latter the field of the one is our amusements,
that of the other all the circumstances of our daily life. We must then
place these also in our list, so as to still further strengthen our convic-
tion that in all cases the mean state is praiseworthy, the extremes nei-
ther right nor praiseworthy, but blameable. The majority of these
states are nameless; but we must endeavor, as we have done with
others, to coin a name for each of them, that we may thereby give
precision to our treatise, and render its course intelligible. With
regard to truth then he who is in the mean is the truthful man, and
the mean state itself may be called truthfulness, while all pretence to
more than our merits is braggartry, and he who advances such pre-
tences is a braggart. And, on the other hand, all dissimulation of our
powers is irony, as it is to be seen in the ironical man. And, as regards
the elements of pleasure in our amusements, he who hits the mean
is the witty man ; and his moral state is wittiness, while the excess is
gross buffoonery, and he who displays it is a buffoon ; and, on the other
hand, he who is deficient in wit is a boor, and his habit is boorishness.
And, as regards the other aspect of pleasure in our life as a whole, he
who is pleasant as he ought to be is a friendly man, and the mean state
is friendliness, while he who runs into excess, if it be with no particular
object in view, is over-polite, but, if it be to serve his own ends, is a
sycophant; while he again who errs on the side of defect, and who
never lays himself out to please others, is quarrelsome and peevish.
There are, moreover, certain mean states in our emotions, and in the
circumstances with which our emotions are concerned. Shame, for
instance, is not a virtue, and yet he who shows a proper shame is
praised. For in these matters we say that such a man is in the mean,
and that such another runs into excess, as does the over-bashful man
who feels shame at everything, while he who is deficient in this respect,
or he who never 'displays shame at all, is called shameless; and he
again who hits the mean is said to show a proper sense of shame.
Lastly, righteous indignation is a mean between envy and malignity.
These are states concerned with the pleasures and the pains caused
by the fortunes of our neighbors. For he who feels righteous indigna-

380 ARISTOTLE

tion is grieved when he sees the ungodly in prosperity. The envious
man, on the other hand, runs into excess, and is grieved at the pros-
perity of all alike ; while the malignant man, so far from feeling pain
at the prosperity of the ungodly, actually rejoices thereat. But con-
cerning all these states we shall have fitting occasion to speak else-
where; and so too concerning justice, which is a word used in more
than one sense, we will elsewhere distinguish between its two kinds,
and will show how each of them is a mean. And we will then, in like
manner, proceed to the discussion of the intellectual virtues.

There are, then, three states of mind, to-wit, two vices — that of
excess, and that of defect; and one virtue — the mean; and all these
are in a certain sense opposed to one another ; for the extremes are not
only opposed to the mean, but also to one another; and the mean is
opposed to the extremes. For, exactly as that which is equal is, at the
same time, greater as compared with that which is less, and less as
compared with that which is greater; so, too, the mean states are in
excess as compared with their defects, and are defective as compared
with their excesses, both where our emotions are concerned, and where
our actions. For the brave man, if he be compared with the coward,
seems foolhardy : and, if with the foolhardy man, seems a coward ; and
so, too, the really temperate man, if he be compared with the ascetic,
appears to be debauched ; and, if with the debauched man, to be ascetic.
Similarly, the liberal man, if contrasted with the illiberal man, will
seem a prodigal ; but, if with the prodigal, he will seem illiberal. And
hence those who run into either extreme delight to contrast themselves
with him who is in the mean, by identifying him with the man who
falls into the opposite extreme. And thus the coward calls the brave
man foolhardy, and the foolhardy man calls him a coward; and, with
regard to all the other virtues and vices, a similar rule holds good.
Virtue, then, and vice are thus mutually opposed to one another. But
still the extremes are more opposed to each other than they are to the
mean, for they are further removed from one another than they are
from the mean ; exactly as the greater differs more from the less, and
the less from the greater, than does either from that which is exactly
equal. And in some cases, again, the one extreme is more like the
mean than is the other. Foolhardiness, for example, is more like valor
than is cowardice, and prodigality is more like liberality than is stingi-
ness. Thus, then, it is the two extremes that are the most unlike each
other ; and, inasmuch as the definition of contraries is "all such things
as are farthest removed from one another," it follows that the further

ARISTOTLE 381

things be removed from one another the more contrary will they be.
And, again, in some cases it is the defect, and in others the excess that
is the more opposed to the mean. To bravery, for example, it is not
so much foolhardiness, its excess, that is opposed, as cowardice, its
defect ; and to temperance it is not so much asceticism, its defect, that
is opposed, as debauchery, its excess. And there are two reasons why
this happens, one of which lies in the very nature of the matter itself.
For, in that the one extreme is nearer to, and so more like the mean
than is the other, we oppose to the mean, as its contrary, not so much
this extreme as the other. Since, for example, foolhardiness is more
like courage, and is nearer to it than is cowardice, it is cowardice rather
than foolhardiness that we contrast with courage. For that extreme
which is the more removed from the mean would seem to be the more
opposed to it. This, then, is one cause, dependent upon the very nature
of the matter itself, while there is another which depends upon our-
selves. For that extreme towards which we are of our own natures
prone to drift would seem to be more opposed to the mean than is the
other. Inasmuch as, for example, we are of our own nature prone to
pleasure, we drift towards intemperance rather than towards a Spartan
life. And, as we say that that extreme towards which runs our bent is
the more opposed to the mean than is the other, we therefore hold that
intemperance, the excess, is more opposed to temperance than is
asceticism.

And now we have sufficiently shown that moral virtue is a mean,
and how, and that it is a mean between two vices, that of excess and
that of defect, and that it is a mean in that it aims at a mean in our
emotions and in our actions. And hence we can see that it is no small
task to be good. No small task is it to hit the mean in each case.
It is not, for example, any chance comer, but only the geometer, who
can find the center of a given circle. And, so, too, to get angry is an
easy matter, and in any man's power; or to give away money or to
spend it ; but to decide to whom to give it, and how large a sum, and
when, and for what purpose, and how, is neither in every man's power,
nor an easy matter. Hence it is that such excellence is rare and praise-
worthy and noble. Hence, too, he who aims at the mean must, first and
foremost, keep well away from that extreme which is the more opposed
to the mean. Such is Calypso's counsel —

Gear of this surge and spray steer wide thy barque.
For of the two extremes the one is full-fraught with danger, the

382 ARISTOTLE

other less. Since, then, to keep exactly to the mid-channel is hard, we
must choose the least of two evils, and, as the saying is, make a losing
tack. And this we shall best do by observing the rule here laid down.
And we must, moreover, consider towards which extreme it is that we
ourselves are the most inclined to drift ; for no two men have the same
natural bent. Our test herein will be the pleasure or the pain which
we feel upon each occasion. And we must strive to drag ourselves in
exactly the counter course, much as they do who straighten warped
timbers. For the further we remove ourselves from error the nearer
shall we come to the mean. But most of all must we upon all occasions
keep a watchful guard against that which gives us pleasure, and
against Pleasure herself. For we cannot pass judgment upon her
unmoved by her bribes. As, then, the elders of the people felt towards
Helen, so, too, must we feel towards her, and must upon each such
occasion repeat their sentence. For so shall we put her from us, and
be less liable to sin. And, in brief, to act thus is our best chance to hit
the mean. And yet this is no easy rule, and least easy to apply. No
light task is it to determine how, and with whom, and for what, and for
how long it is fitting to give way to anger. For there are times when
we praise those who show defect of spirit and call them gentle, and at
times again we exculpate hot temper by the title of manliness. In any
case, however, he who steps but little wide of the good is not blamed,
whether he inclines towards excess or towards defect. But he is
blamed who strays far wide, for such an one cannot be erring unawares.
And yet it is no easy matter to determine by precise rule up to what
point, and how far, error is free from blame. For no matter of imme-
diate perception is easy to determine, and all such questions as this are
in their very nature particular matters of fact, which must be decided
by immediate perception, and not by argument. This much, however,
is clear, that in all matters the mean state is the praiseworthy, but that
in some cases we must, if anything, decline towards the excess, and
in others towards the defect; for thus shall we most easily hit the
mean, and with it that which is our good. — The Nicomachean Ethics.

TRANSLATION OF ROBERT WILLIAMS.

383

POLITICAL IDEAS

ORIGIN OF THE STATE

Every state is a community of some kind, and every community
is established with a view to some good; for mankind always act in
order to obtain that which they think good. But, if all communities
aim at some good, the state or political community, which is the
highest of all, and which embraces all the rest, aims, and in a greater
degree than any other, at the highest good.

Now there is an erroneous opinion that a statesman, king, house-
holder, and master are the same, and that they differ, not in kind, but
only in the number of their subjects. For example, the ruler over a
few is called a master ; over more, the manager of a household ; over
a still larger number, a statesman or king, as if there were no differ-
ence between a great household and a small state. The distinction
which is made between the king and the statesman is as follows:
When the government is personal, the ruler is a king; when, ac-
cording to the principles of the political science, the citizens rule and
are ruled in turn, then he is called a statesman.

But all this is a mistake ; for governments differ in kind, as will
be evident to any one who considers the matter according to the
method which has hitherto guided us. As in other departments of
science, so in politics, the compound should always be resolved into
the simple elements or least parts of the whole. We must there-
fore look at the elements of which the state is composed, in order
that we may see in what they differ from one another, and whether
any scientific distinction can be drawn between the different kinds
of rule.

He who thus considers things in their first growth and origin,
whether a state or anything else will obtain the clearest view of them.
In the first place ( i ) there must be a union of those who cannot exist
without each other ; for example, male and female, that the race may
continue; and this is a union which is formed, not of deliberate pur-
pose, but because, in common with other animals and with plants,

384 ARISTOTLE

mankind have a natural desire to leave behind them an image of
themselves. And (2) there must be a union of natural ruler and
subject, that both may be preserved. For he who can foresee with
his mind is by nature intended to be lord and master, and he who
can work with his body is a subject, and by nature a slave; hence
master and slave have the same interest. Nature, however, has dis-
tinguished between the female and the slave. For she is not nig-
gardly, like the smith who fashions the Delphian knife for many
uses; she makes each thing, for a single use, and every instrument
is best made when intended for one and not many uses. But among
barbarians no distinction is made between women and slaves, because
there is no natural ruler among them: they are a community of
slaves, male and female. Wherefore the poets say,

'It is meet that Hellenes should rule over barbarians;'

as if they thought that the barbarian and the slave were by nature one.

Out of these two relationships between man and woman, master

and slave, the family first arises, and Hesiod is right when he says,-—

'First house and wife and an ox for the plough/

for the ox is the poor man's slave. The family is the association es-
tablished by nature for the supply of men's every day wants, and the
members of it are called by Charondas 'companions of the cupboard'
[homosipuous], and by Epimenides the Cretan, 'companions of the
manger [homokapous]. But when several families are united, and
the association aims at something more than the supply of daily needs,
then comes into existence the village. And the most natural form of
the village appears to be that of a colony from the family, com-
posed of the children and grandchildren, who are said to be 'suckled
with the same milk.' And this is the reason why Hellenic states
were originally governed by kings ; because the Hellenes were under
royal rule before they came together, as the barbarians still are.
Every family is ruled by the eldest, and therefore in the colonies of
the family the kingly form of government prevailed because they
were of the same blood. As Homer says [of the Cyclopes] : —

'Each one gives law to his children and to his wives.'
For they lived dispersedly, as was the manner in ancient times. Where-
fore men say that the gods have a king, because they themselves either
are or were in ancient times under the rule of a king. For they im-

ARISTOTLE 385

agine, not only; the forms of the gods, but their ways of life to be like
their own.

When several villages are united in a single community, perfect
and large enough to be nearly or quite self-sufficing, the state comes
into existence, originating in the bare needs of life, and continuing in
existence for the sake of a good life. And therefore, if the earlier forms
of society are natural, so is the state, for it is the end of them, and the
[completed] nature is the end. For what each thing is when fully
developed, we call its nature, whether we are speaking of a man, a
horse, or a family. Besides, the final cause and end of a thing is the
best, and to be self-sufficing is the end and the best.

Hence it is evident that the state is a creation of nature, and that
man is by nature a political animal. And he who by nature and not
by mere accident is without a state, is either above humanity, or below
it; he is the

"Tribeless, lawless, hearthless one/

whom Homer denounces — the outcast who is a lover of war ; he may
be compared to a bird which flies alone.

Now the reason why man is more of a political animal than bees
or any other gregarious animals is evident. Nature, as we often say,
makes nothing in vain, and man is the only animal whom she has en-
dowed with the gift of speech. And whereas mere sound is but an in-
dication of pleasure or pain, and is therefore found in other animals
(for their nature attains to the perception of pleasure and pain and the
intimation of them to one another, and no further), the power of speech
is intended to set forth the expedient and inexpedient, and likewise the
just and the unjust. And it is a characteristic of man that he alone has
any sense of good and evil, of just and unjust, and the association of
living beings who have this sense makes a family and a state.

Thus the state is by nature clearly prior to the family and to the
individual, since the whole is of necessity prior to the part ; for example,
if the whole body be destroyed, there will be no foot or hand, except
in an equivocal sense, as we might speak of a stone hand, for when
destroyed the hand will be no better. But things are defined by their
working and power ; and we ought not to say that they are the same
when they are no longer th~e same, but only that they have the same
name. The proof that the state is a creation of nature and prior to
the individual is that the individual, when isolated, is not self-sufficing ;

386 ARISTOTLE

and therefore he is like a part in relation to the whole. But he who is
unable to live in society, or who has no need because he is sufficient
for himself, must be either a beast or a god : he is no part of a state. A
social instinct is implanted in all men by nature, and yet he who first
founded the state was the greatest of benefactors. For man, when
perfected, is the best of animals, but, when separated from law and
justice, he is the worst of all ; since armed injustice is the more danger-
ous, and he is equipped at birth with the arms of intelligence and with
moral qualities which he may use for the worst ends. Wherefore, if
he have not virtue, he is the most unholy and the most savage of ani-
mals, and the most full of lust and gluttony. But justice is the bond
of men in states, and the administration of justice, which is the deter-
mination of what is just, is the principle of order in political society.
Seeing then that the state is made up of households, before speak-
ing of the state, we must speak of the management of the household.
The parts of the household are the persons who compose it, and a com-
plete household consists of slaves and freemen. Now we should begin
by examining everything in its least elements ; and the first and least
parts of a family are master and slave, husband and wife, father and
children. We have therefore to consider what each of these three re-
lations is and ought to be : — I mean the relation of master and servant,
of husband and wife, and thirdly of parent and child. — Politics, I.

THE IDEAL STATE

He who would duly enquire about the best form of a state ought
first to determine which is the most eligible life; while this remains
uncertain the best form of the state must also be uncertain ; for, in the
natural order of things, those may be expected to lead the best life who
are governed in the best manner of which their circumstances admit.
We ought therefore to ascertain, first of all, which is the most generally
eligible life, and then whether the same life is or is not best for the
state and for individuals.

Assuming that enough has been already said in exoteric dis-
courses concerning the best life, we will now only repeat the state-
ments contained in them. Certainly no one will dispute the propriety
of that partition of goods which separates them into three classes, viz.
eternal goods, goods of the body, and goods of the soul, or deny that

ARISTOTLE 387

the happy man must have all three. For no one would maintain that
he is happy who has not in him a particle of courage or temperance
or justice or prudence, who is afraid of every insect which flutters past
him, and will commit any crime, however great, in order to gratify his
lust of meat or drink, who will sacrifice his dearest friend for the sake
of half-a-farthing, and is as feeble and false in mind as a child or a
madman. These propositions are universally acknowledged as soon
as they are uttered, but men differ about the degree or relative sup-
eriority of this or that good. Some think that a very moderate amount
of virtue is enough, but set no limit to their desires of wealth, property,
power, reputation, and the like. To whom we reply by an appeal to
facts, which easily prove that mankind do not acquire or preserve
virtue by the help of external goods, but external goods by the help
of virtue, and that happiness, whether consisting in pleasure or virtue,
or both, is more often found with those who are most highly cultivated
in their mind and in their character, and have only a moderate share
of external goods, than among those who possess external goods to
a useless extent but are deficient in higher qualities ; and this is not only
matter of experience, but, if reflected upon, will easily appear to be in
accordance with reason. For, whereas external goods have a limit,
like any other instrument, and all things useful are of such a nature
that where there is too much of them they must either do harm, or at
any rate be of no use, to their possessors, every good of the soul, the
greater it is, is also of greater use, if the epithet useful as well as noble
is appropriate to such subjects. No proof is required to show that
the best state of one thing in relation to another is proportioned to the
degree of excellence by which the natures corresponding to those
states are separated from each other : so that, if the soul is more noble
than our possessions or our bodies, both absolutely and in relation to
us, it must be admitted that the best state of either has a similar ratio
to the other. Again, it is for the sake of the soul that goods external
and goods of the body are eligible at all, and all wise men ought to
choose them for the sake of the soul, and not the soul for the sake of
them.

Let us acknowledge then that each one has just so much of happi-
ness as he has of virtue and wisdom, and of virtuous and wise action.
God is a witness to us of this truth, for he is happy and blessed, not by
reason of any external good, but in himself and by reason of his own
nature. And herein of necessity lies the difference between good
fortune and happiness; for external goods come of themselves, and

388 ARISTOTLE

chance is the author of them, but no one is just or temperate by or
through chance. In like manner, and by a similar train of argument,
the happy state may Be shown to be that which is [morally] best and
which acts rightly; and rightly it cannot act without doing right ac-
tions, and neither individual nor state can do right actions without
virtue and wisdom. Thus the courage, justice, and wisdom of a state
have the same form and nature as the qualities which give the indiv-
idual who possesses them the name of just, wise, or temperate.

Thus much may suffice by way of preface : for I could not avoid
touching upon these questions, neither could I go through all the ar-
guments affecting them ; these must be reserved for another discussion.

Let us assume then that the best life, both for individuals and
states, is the life of virtue, having external goods enough for the per-
formance of good actions. If there are any who controvert our asser-
tion, we will in this treatise pass them over, and consider their objec-
tions hereafter.

There remains to be discussed the question, Whether the happi-
ness of the individual is the same as that of the state, or different?
Here again there can be no doubt — no one denies that they are the
same. For those who hold that the well-being of the individual con-
sists in his wealth, also think that riches make the happiness of the
whole state, and those who value most highly the life of a tyrant deem
that city the happiest which rules over the greatest number; while,
they who approve an individual for his virtue say that the more vir-.
tuous a city is, the happier it is. Two points here present themselves
for consideration: first (i), which is the more eligible life, that of a
citizen who is a member of a state, or that of an alien who has no pol-
itical ties ; and again (2), which is the best form of constitution or the
best condition of a state, either on the supposition that political priv-
ileges are given to all, or that they are given to a majority only ? Since
the good of the state and not of the individual is the proper subject
of political thought and speculation, and we are engaged in a political
discussion, while the first of these two points has a secondary interest
for us, the latter will be the main subject of our inquiry.

Now it is evident that the form of government is best in whicK
every man, whoever he is, can act for the best and live happily. But
even those who agree in thinking that the life of virtue is the most elig-
ible raise a question, whether the life of business and politics is or
is not more eligible than one which is wholly independent of ex-
ternal goods, I mean than a contemplative life, which by some is

ARISTOTLE

maintained to be the only one worthy of a philosopher. For these
two-lives — the life of the philosopher and the life of the states-
man— appear to have been preferred by those who have been
most keen in the pursuit of virtue, both in our own and in other
ages. Which is the better is a question of no small moment; for the
wise man, like the wise state, will necessarily regulate his life accord-
ing to the best end. There are some who think that while a despotic rule
over others is the greatest injustice, to exercise a constitutional rule
over them, even though not unjust, is a great impediment to a man's
individual well-being. Others take an opposite view; they maintain
that the true life of man is the practical and political, and that every
virtue admits of being practised, quite as much by statesmen and rulers
as by private individuals. Others, again, are of opinion that arbitrary
and tyrannical rule alone consists with happiness; indeed, in some
states the entire aim of the laws is to give men despotic power over
their neighbours. And, therefore, although in most cities the laws
may be said generally to be in a chaotic state, still, if they aim at any-
thing, they aim at the maintenance of power : thus in Lacedaemon and
Crete the system of education and the greater part of the laws are
framed with a view to war. And in all nations which are able to gratify
their ambition, military power is held in esteem, for example among
the Scythians and Persians and Thracians and Celts. In some nations
there are even laws tending to stimulate the warlike virtues, as at
Carthage, where we are told that men obtain the honour of wearing
as many rings as they have served campaigns. There was once a law
in Macedonia that he who had not killed an enemy should wear a
halter, and among the Scythians no one who had not slain his man
was allowed to drink out of the cup which was handed round at a cer-
tain feast. Among the Iberians, a warlike nation, the number of ene-
mies whom a man has slain is indicated by the number of obelisks
which are fixed in the earth round his tomb ; and there are numerous
practices among other nations of a like kind, some of them established
by law and others by custom. Yet to a reflecting mind it must appear
very strange that the statesman should be always considering how he
can dominate and tyrannize over others, whether they will or not. How
can that which is not even lawful be the business of the statesman or
the legislator ? Unlawful it certainly is to rule without regard to jus-
tice, for there may be might where there is no right. The other arts
and sciences offer no parallel ; a physician is not expected to persuade
or coerce his patients, nor a pilot the passengers in his ship. Yet many

390 ARISTOTLE

appear to think that a despotic government is a true political form,
and what men affirm to be unjust and inexpedient in their own case
they are not ashamed of practising towards others ; they demand justice
for themselves, but where other men are concerned they care nothing
about it. Such behaviour is irrational; unless the one party is born
to command, and the other born to serve, in which case men have a
right to command, not indeed all their fellows, but only those who are
intended to be subjects ; just as we ought not to hunt mankind, whether
for food or sacrifice, but only the animals which are intended for food
or sacrifice, that is to say, such wild animals as are eatable. And surely
there may be a city happy in isolation, which we will assume to be well-
governed (for it is quite possible that a city thus isolated might be well-
administered and have good laws) ; but such a city would not be con-
stituted with any view to war or the conquest of enemies, — all that sort
of thing must be excluded. Hence we see very plainly that warlike
pursuits, although generally to be deemed honourable, are not the
supreme end of all things, but only means. And the good lawgiver
should enquire how states and races oif men and communities may par-
ticipate in a good life, and in the happiness which is attainable by them.
His enactments will not be always the same ; and where there are neigh-
bours he will have to deal with them according to their characters, and
to see what duties are to be performed towards each. The end at
which the best form of government should aim may be properly made
a matter of future consideration.

Let us now address those who, while they agree that the life of
virtue is the most eligible, differ about the manner of practising it.
For some renounce political power, and think that the life of the free-
man is different from the life of the statesman and the best of all ; but
others think the life of the statesman best. The argument of the latter
is that he who does nothing cannot do well, and that virtuous activity
is identical with happiness. To both we say : 'you are partly right and
partly wrong.' The first class are right in affirming that the life of the
freeman is better than the life of the despot ; for there is nothing grand
or noble in having the use of a slave, in so far as he is a slave ; or in
issuing commands about necessary things. But it is an error to sup-
pose that every sort of rule is despotic like that of a master over slaves,
for there is as great a difference between the rule over freemen and the
rule over slaves as there is between slavery by nature and freedom by
nature, about which I have said enough" at the commencement of this
treatise. And it is equally a mistake to place inactivity above action,

ARISTOTLE 391

for happiness is activity, and the actions of the just and wise are the
realization of much that is noble.

But perhaps some one, accepting these premises, may still main-
tain that supreme power is the best of all things, because the possessors
of it are able to perform the greatest number of noble actions. If so,
the man who is able to rule, instead of giving up anything to his neigh-
bour, ought rather to take away his power ; and the father should make
no account of his son, nor the son of his father, nor friend of friend ;
they should not bestow a thought on one another in comparison with
this higher object, for the best is the most eligible and 'doing well' is
the best. There might be some truth in such a view if we assume that
robbers and plunderers attain the chief good. But this can never be ;
and hence we infer the view to be false. For the actions of a ruler can-
not really be honourable, unless he is as much superior to other men
as a husband is to a wife, or a father to his children, or a master to his
slaves. And therefore he who violates the law can never recover by
any success, however great, what he has already lost in departing from
virtue. For equals share alike in the honourable and the just, as is
just and equal. But that the unequal should be given to equals, and
the unlike to those who are like, is contrary to nature, and nothing
which is contrary to nature is good. If, therefore, there is any one
superior in virtue and in the power of performing the best actions, him
we ought to follow and obey, but he must have the capacity for action
as well as virtue.

If we are right in our view, and happiness is assumed to be vir-
tuous activity, the active life will be the best, both for the city collec-
tively, and for individuals. Not that a life of action must necessarily
have relation to others, as some persons think, nor are those ideas only
to be regarded as practical which are pursued for the sake of practical
results, but much more the thoughts and contemplations which are
independent and complete in themselves ; since virtuous activity, and
therefore action, is an end, and even in the case of external actions the
directing mind is most truly said to act. Neither, again, is it necessary
that states which are cut off from others and choose to live alone should
be inactive ; for there may be activity also in the parts ; there are many
ways in which the members of a state act upon one another. The
same thing is equally true of every individual. If this were otherwise,
God and the universe, who have no external actions over and above
their own energies, would be far enough from perfection. Hence it is

392 ARISTOTLE

evident that the same life is best for each individual, and for states, and

for mankind collectively.

Thus far by way of introduction. In what has preceded I have
discussed other forms of government ; in what remains the first point
to be considered is what should be the conditions of the ideal or perfect
state; for the perfect state cannot exist without a due supply of the
means of life. And therefore we must pre-suppose many purely im-
aginary conditions, but nothing impossible. There will be, a certain
number of citizens, a country in which to place them, and the like. As
the weaver or shipbuilder or any other artisan must have the material
proper for his work (and in proportion as this is better prepared, so
will the result of his art be nobler), so the statesman or legislator must
also have the materials suited to him.

First among the materials required by the statesman is population :
he will consider what should be the number and character of the citi-
zens, and then what should be the size and character of the country.
Most persons think that a state in order to be happy ought to be large ;
but even if they are right, they have no idea what is a large and what
a small state. For they judge of the size of the city by the number of
the inhabitants ; whereas they ought to regard, not their number, but
their power. A city too, like an individual, has a work to do ; and that
city which is best adapted to the fulfilment of its work is to be deemed
greatest, in the same sense of the word great in which Hippocrates
might be called greater, not as a man, but as a physician, than some
one else who was taller. And even if we reckon greatness by numbers,
we ought not to include everybody, for there must always be in cities
a multitude of slaves and sojourners and foreigners ; but we should in-
clude those only who are members of the state, and who form an es-
sential part of it. The number of the latter is a proof of the greatness
D£ a city ; but a city which produces numerous artisans and compara-
tively few soldiers cannot be great, for a great city is not to be con-
founded with a populous one. Moreover, experience shows that a
very populous city can rarely, if ever, be well governed ; since all cities
which have a reputation for good government have a limit of popula-
tion. We may argue on grounds of reason, and the same result will
follow. For law is order, and good law is good order; but a very
great multitude cannot be orderly : to introduce order into the unlim-
ited is the work of a divine power — of such a power as holds together
the universe. Beauty is realized in number and magnitude, and the
state which combines magnitude with good order must necessarily

ARISTOTLE 393

be the most beautiful. To the size of states there is a limit, as there is
to other things, plants, animals, implements; for none of these retain
their natural power when they are too large or too small, but they either
wholly lose their nature, or are spoiled. For example, a ship which
is only a span long will not be a ship at all, nor a ship a quarter of a
mile long; yet there may be a ship of a certain size, either too large
or too small, which will still be a ship, but bad for sailing. In like
manner a state when composed of too few is not as a state ought to
be, self-sufficing ; when of too many, though self-sufficing in all mere
necessaries, it is a nation and not a state, being almost incapable of
constitutional government. For who can be the general of such a
vast mulitude, or who the herald, unless he have the voice of a Stentor ?

A state then only begins to exist when it has attained a popula-
tion sufficient for a good life in the political community : it may indeed
somewhat exceed this number. But, as I was saying, there must be
a limit. What should be the limit will be easily ascertained by experi-
ence. For both governors and governed have duties to perform ; the
special functions of a governor are to command and to judge. But
if the citizens of a state are to judge and to distribute offices accord-
ing to merit, then they must know each other's characters ; where
they do not possess this knowledge, both the election to offices and
the decision of lawsuits will go wrong. When the population is very
large they are manifestly settled at haphazard, which clearly ought
not to be. Besides, in an over-populous state foreigners and metics
will readily acquire the rights of citizens, for who will find them out?
Clearly then the best limit of the population of a state is the largest
number which suffices for the purposes of life, and can be taken in at
a single view. Enough concerning the size of a city.

Much the same principle will apply to the territory of the state :
every one would agree in praising the state which is most entirely self-
sufficing ; and that must be the state which is all-producing, for to have
all things and to want nothing is sufficiency. In size and extent it
should be such as may enable the inhabitants to live temperately and lib-
erally in the enjoyment of leisure. Whether we are right or wrong in
laying down his limit we will enquire more precisely hereafter, when
we have occasion to consider what is the right use of property and
wealth: a matter which is much disputed, because men are inclined
to rush into one of two extremes, some into meanness, others into
luxury.

It is not difficult to determine the general character of the territory

V 2-25

394 ARISTOTLE

which is required ; there are, however, some points on which military
authorities should be heard ; they tell us that it should be difficult of
access to the enemy, and easy of egress to the inhabitants. Further,
we require that the land as well as the inhabitants of whom we were
just now speaking should be taken in at a single view, for a country
which is easily seen can be easily protected. As to the position of the
city, if we could have what we wish, it should be well-situated in regard
both to sea or land. This then is one principle, that it should be a
convenient centre for the protection of the whole country : the other
is, that it should be suitable for receiving the fruits of the soil, and
also for the bringing in of timber and any other products.

Whether a communication with the sea is beneficial to a well-
ordered state or not is a question which has often been asked. It is
argued that the introduction of strangers brought up under other laws,
and the increase of population, will be adverse to good order (for a
maritime people will always have a crowd of merchants coming and
going), and that intercourse by sea is inimical to good government.
Apart from these considerations, it would be undoubtedly better, both
with a view to safety and to the provision of necessaries, that the city
and territory should be connected with the sea; the defenders of a
country, if they are to maintain themselves against an enemy, should
be easily relieved both by land and by sea; and even if they are not
able to attack by sea and land at once, they will have less difficulty in
doing mischief to their assailants on one element, if they themselves
can use both. Moreover, it is necessary that they should import from
abroad what is not found in their own country, and that they should
export what they have in excess ; for a city ought to be a market, not
indeed for others, but for herself.

Those who make themselves a market for the world only do so
for the sake of revenue, and if a state ought not to desire profit of this
kind it ought not to have such an emporium. Now a days we often
see in countries and cities dockyards and harbours very conveniently
placed outside the city, but not too far off; and they are kept in de-
pendence by walls and similar fortifications. Cities thus situated
manifestly reap the benefit of intercourse with their ports ; and any
harm which is likely to accrue may be easily guarded against by the
laws, which will pronounce and determine who may hold communi-
cation with one another, and who may not.

There can be no doubt that the possession of a moderate naval
force is advantageous to a city; the citizens require such a force for

ARISTOTLE 395

their own needs, and they should also be formidable to their neigh-
bours in certain cases, or, if necessary, able to assist them by sea as
well as by land. The proper number or magnitude of this naval force
is relative to the character of the state ; for if her function is to take
a leading part in politics, her naval power should be commensurate
with the scale of her enterprizes. The population of the state need
not be much increased, since there is no necessity that the sailors
should be citizens: the marines who have the control and command
will be freemen, and belong also to the infantry ; and wherever there
is a dense population of Perioeci and husbandmen, there will always
be sailors more than enough. Of this we see instances at the present
day. The city of Heraclea, for example, although small in comparison
with many others, can man a considerable fleet. Such are our conclu-
sions respecting the territory of the state, its harbour, its towns, its
relations to the sea, and its maritime power.

Having spoken of the number of the citizens, we will proceed to
speak of what should be their character. This is a subject which can
be easily understood by any one who casts his eye on the more cele-
brated states of Hellas, and generally on the distribution of races in
the habitable world. Those who live in a cold climate and in [north-
ern] Europe are full of spirit, but wanting in intelligence and skill;
and therefore they keep their freedom, but have no political organiza-
tion, and are incapable of ruling over others. Whereas the natives of
Asia are intelligent and inventive, but they are wanting in spirit, and
therefore they are always in a state of subjection and slavery. But
the Hellenic race, which is situated between them, is likewise inter-
mediate in character, being high-spirited and also intelligent. Hence
it continues free, and is the best-governed of any nation, and, if it could
be formed into one state, would be able to rule the world. There are
also similar differences in the different tribes of Hellas; for some of
them are of a one-sided nature, and are intelligent or courageous only,
while in others there is a happy combination of both qualities. And
clearly those whom the legislator will most easily lead to virtue may
be expected to be both intelligent and courageous. Some [like Plato]
say that the guardians should be friendly towards those whom they
know, fierce towards those whom they do not know. Now, passion
is the quality of the soul which begets friendship and inspires affec-
tion; notably the spirit within us is more stirred against our friends
and acquaintances than against those who are unknown to us, when
we think that we are despised by them ; for which reason Archilochus,

396 ARISTOTLE

complaining of his friends, very naturally addresses his soul in these

words,

Tor wert thou not plagued on account of friends?'

The power of command and the love of freedom are in all men
based upon this quality, for passion is commanding and invincible.
Nor is it right to say that the guardians should be fierce towards those
whom they do not know, for we ought not to be out of temper with
any one ; and a lofty spirit is not fierce by nature, but only when ex-
cited against evil-doers. And this, as I was saying before, is a feeling
which men show most strongly towards their friends if they think they
have received a wrong at their hands : as indeed is reasonable ; for,
besides the actual injury, they seem to be deprived of a benefit by those
who owe them one. Hence the saying,

'Cruel is the strife of brethren ;'
and again,

They who love in excess also hate in excess.'

Thus we have nearly determined the number and character of the
citizens of our state, and also the size and nature of their territory. I
say 'nearly,' for we ought not to require the same minuteness in theory
as in fact.

As in other natural compounds the conditions of a composite
whole are not necessarily organic parts of it, so in a state or in any
other combination forming a unity not everything is a part, which is
a necessary condition. The members of an association have neces-
sarily some one thing the same and common to all, in which they share
equally or unequally; for example, food or land or any other thing.
But where there are two things of which one is a means and the other
an end, they have nothing in common except that the one receives
what the other produces. Such, for example, is the relation in which
workmen and tools stand to their work; the house and the builder
have nothing in common, but the art of the builder is for the sake of
the house. And so states require property, but property, even though
living beings are included in it, is no part of a state ; for a state is not
a community of living beings only, but a community of equals, aiming
at the best life possible. Now, whereas happiness is the highest good,
being a realization and perfect practice of virtue, which some attain,
while others have little or none of it, the various qualities of men are

ARISTOTLE 397

clearly the reason why there are various kinds of states and many forms
cf government ; for different men seek after happiness in different ways
and by different means, and so make for themselves different modes
of life and forms of government. We must see also how many things
are indispensable to the existence of a state, for what we call the parts
of a state will be found among them. Let us then enumerate the func-
tions of a state, and we shall easily elicit what we want :

First, there must be food; secondly, arts, for life requires many
instruments ; thirdly, there must be arms, for the members of a com-
munity have need of them in order to maintain authority both against
disobedient subjects and against external assailants; fourthly, there
must be a certain amount of revenue, both for internal needs, and for
the purposes of war; fifthly, or rather first, there must be a care of
religion, which is commonly called worship; sixthly, and most nec-
essary of all, there must be a power of deciding what is for the public
interest, and what is just in men's dealings with one another.

These are the things which every state may be said to need. For
a state is not a mere aggregate of persons, but a union of them suffic-
ing for the purposes of life ; and if any of these things be wanting, it
is simply impossible that the community can be self-sufficing. A state
then should be framed with a view to the fulfilment of these functions.
There must be husbandmen to procure food, and artisans, and a warlike
and a wealthy class, and priests, and judges to decide what is just and
expedient.

Having determined these points, we have in the next place to con-
sider whether all ought to share in every sort of occupation. Shall
every man be at once husbandman, artisan, councillor, judge, or shall
we suppose the several occupations just mentioned assigned to dif-
ferent persons? or thirdly, shall some employments be assigned to
individuals and others common to all? The ouestion, however, does
not occur in every state ; as we were saying, all may be shared by all,
or not all by all, but only some by some ; and hence arise the differ-
ences of states, for in democracies all share in all, in oligarchies the
opposite practice prevails. Now, since we are here speaking of the
best form of government, and that under which the state will be most
happy (and happiness, as has been already said, cannot exist without
virtue), it clearly follows that in the state which is best governed the
citizens who are absolutely and not merely relatively just men must
not lead the life of mechanics or tradesmen, for such a life is ignoble
and inimical to virtue. Neither must they be husbandmen, since leis-

398 ARISTOTLE

ure is necessary both for the development .of virtue and the perform-
ance of political duties.

Again, there is in a state a class of warriors, and another of
councillors, who advise about the expedient and determine matters
of law, and these seem in an especial manner parts of a state. Now,
should these two classes be distinguished, or are both functions to be
assigned to the same persons? Here again there is no difficulty in
seeing that both functions will in one way belong to the same, in an-
other, to different persons. To different persons in so far as their
employments are suited to different ages of life, for the one requires
wisdom, and the other strength. But on the other hand, since it is
an impossible thing that those who are able to use or to resist force
should be willing to remain always in subjection, from this point of
view the persons are the same ; for those who carry arms can always
determine the fate of the constitution. It remains therefore that both
functions of government should be entrusted to the same persons, not,
however, at the same time, but in the order prescribed by nature, who
has given to young men strength and to older men wisdom. Such a
distribution of duties will be expedient and also just, and is founded
upon a principle of proportion. Besides, the ruling class should be
the owners of property, for they are citizens, and the citizens of a state
should be in good circumstances ; whereas mechanics or any other
class whose art excludes the art of virtue have no share in the state.
This follows from our first principle, for happiness cannot exist with-
out virtue, and a city is not to be termed happy in regard to a portion
of the citizens, but in regard to them all. And clearly property should
be in their hands, since the husbandmen will of necessity be slaves or
barbarians or Perioeci.

Of the classes enumerated there remain only the priests, and the
manner in which their office is to be regulated is obvious. No hus-
bandman or mechanic should be appointed to it; for the gods should
receive honour from the citizens only. Now since the body of the
citizens is divided into two classes, the warriors and the councillors ;
and it is beseeming that the worship of the gods, should be duly per-
formed, and also a rest provided in their service for those who from
age have given up active life — to the old men of these two classes
should be assigned the duties of the priesthood.

We have shown what are the necessary conditions, and what the
parts of a state: husbandmen, craftsmen, and labourers of all kinds
are necessary to the existence of states, but the parts of the state are

ARISTOTLE 399

the warriors and councillors. And these are distinguished severally
from one another, the distinction being in some cases permanent, in
others not.

It is no new or recent discovery of political philosophers that the
state ought to be divided into classes, and that the warriors should be
separated from the husbandmen. The system has continued in Egypt
and in Crete to this day, and was established, as tradition says, by a
law of Sesostris in Egypt and of Minos in Crete. The institution of
common tables also appears to be of ancient date, being in Crete as
old as the reign of Minos, and in Italy far older. The Italian histor-
ians say that there was a certain Italus king of Oenotria, from whom
the Oenotrians were called Italians, and who gave the name of Italy
to the promontory of Europe lying between the Sc'ylletic and Lametic
Gulfs, which are distant from one another only half-a-day's journey.
They say that this Italus converted the Oenotrians from shepherds
into husbandmen, and besides other laws which he gave them, was the
founder of their common meals ; even in our day some who are derived
from him retain this institution and certain other laws of his. On the
side of Italy towards Tyrrhenia dwelt the Opici, who are now, as of
old, called Ausones ; and on the side towards lapygia and the Ionian
Gulf, in the district called Syrtis, the Chones, who are likewise of
Oenotrian race. From this part of the world originally came the in-
stitution of common tables ; the separation into castes [which was
much older] from Egypt, for the reign of Sesostris is of far greater
antiquity than that of Minos. It is true indeed that these and many
other things have been invented several times over in the course of
ages, or rather times without number ; for necessity may be supposed
to have taught men the inventions which were absolutely required, and
when these were provided, it was natural that other things which would
adorn and enrich life should grow up by degrees. And we may infer
that in political institutions the same rule holds. Egypt witnesses to
the antiquity of all things, for the Egyptians appear to be of all people
the most ancient ; and they have laws and a regular constitution [ex-
isting from time immemorial]. We should therefore make the best
use of what has been already discovered, and try to supply defects.

I have already remarked that the land ought to belong to those
who possess arms and have a share in the government, and that the
husbandmen ought to be a class distinct from them ; and I have deter-
mined what should be the extent and nature of the territory. Let me
proceed to discuss the distribution of the land, and the character of the

400 ARISTOTLE

agricultural class ; for I do not think that property ought to be com-
mon, as some maintain, but only that by friendly consent there should
be a common use of it ; and that no citizen should be in want of sub-
sistence.

As to common meals, there is a general agreement that a well-
ordered city should have them ; and we will hereafter explain what are
our own reasons for taking this view. They ought, however, to be
open to all the citizens. And yet it is not easy for the poor to con-
tribute the requisite sum out of their private means, and to provide
also for their household. The expense of religious worship should
likewise be a public charge. The land must therefore be divided into
two parts, one public and the other private, and each part should be
subdivided, half of the public land being appropriated to the service
of the gods, and the other half used to defray the cost of the common
meals ; while of the private land, half should be near the border, and
the other near the city, so that each citizen having two lots they may
all of them have land in both places; there is justice and fairness in .
such a division, and it tends to inspire unanimity among the people in
their border wars. Where there is not this arrangement, some of them
are too ready to come to blows with their neighbours, while others are
so cautious that they quite lose the sense of honour. Wherefore there
is a law in some places which forbids those who dwell near the border
to take part in public deliberations about wars with neighbours, on
the ground that their interests will pervert their judgment. For the
reasons already mentioned then, the land should be divided in the man-
ner described. The very best thing of all would be that the husband-
men should be slaves, not all of the same race and not spirited, for if
they have no spirit they will be better suited for their work, and there
will be no danger of their making a revolution. The next best thing
would be that they should be perioeci of foreign race, and of a like
inferior nature ; some of them should be the slaves of individuals, and
employed on the private estates of men of property, the remainder
should be the property of the state and employed on the common land.
I will hereafter explain what is the proper treatment of slaves, and why
it is expedient that liberty should be always held out to them as the
reward of their services.

We have already said that the city should be open to the land and
to the sea, and to the whole country as far as possible. In respect of
the place itself our wish would be to find a situation for it, fortunate
in four things. The first, health — this is a necessity : cities which lie

ARISTOTLE 401

towards the east, and are blown upon by winds coming from the east,
are the healthiest ; next in health fulness are those which are sheltered
from the north wind, for they have a milder winter. The site of the
city should likewise be convenient both for political administration
and for war. With a view to the latter it should afford easy egress
to the citizens, and at the same time be inaccessible and difficult of
capture to enemies. There should be a natural abundance of springs
and fountains in the town, or, if there is a deficiency of them, great
reservoirs may be established for the collection of rain-water, such as
will not fail when the inhabitants are cut off from the country by war.
Special care should be taken of the health of the inhabitants, which
will depend chiefly on the healthiness of the locality and of the quarter
to which they are exposed, and secondly, on the use of pure water;
this latter point is by no means a secondary consideration. For the
elements which we use most and oftenest for the support of th~e body
contribute most to health, and among these are water and air. Where-
fore, in all wise states, if there is a want of pure water, and the supply
is not all equally good, the drinking water ought to be separated from
that which is used for other purposes.

As to strongholds, what is suitable to different forms of govern^
ment varies : thus an acropolis is suited to an oligarchy or a monarchy,
but a plain to a democracy; neither to an aristocracy, but rather a
number of strong places. The arrangement of private houses is con-
sidered to be more agreeable and generally more convenient, if the
streets are regularly laid out after the modern fashion which Hippo-
damus introduced, but for security in war the antiquated mode of
building, which made it difficult for strangers to get out of a town and
for assailants to find their way in, is preferable. A city should there-
fore adopt both plans of building : it is possible to arrange the houses
irregularly, as husbandmen plant their vines in what are called
'clumps.' The whole town should not be laid out in straight lines,
but only certain quarters and regions ; thus security and beauty will
be combined.

As to walls, those who say that cities making any pretension to
military virtue should not have them, are quite out of date in their
notions ; and they may see the cities which prided themselves on this
fancy confuted by facts. True, there is little courage shown in seeking
for safety behind a rampart when an enemy is similar in character and
not much superior in number; but the superiority of the besiegers
may be and often is beyond the power of men to resist, and too much

402 ARISTOTLE

for the valour of a few ; and if they are to be saved and to escape defeat
and outrage, the strongest wall will be the best defence of the warrior,
more especially now that catapults and siege engines have been
brought to such perfection. To have no walls would be as foolish as
to choose a site for a town in an exposed country, and to level the
heights ; or as if an individual were to leave his house unwalled, lest
the inmates should become cowards. Nor must we forget that those
who have their cities surrounded by walls may either take advantage
of them or not, but cities which are unwalled have no choice.

If our conclusions are just, not only should cities have walls, but
care should be taken to make them ornamental, as well as useful for
warlike purposes, and adapted to resist modern inventions. For as
the assailants of a city do all they can to gain an advantage, so the
defenders should make use of any means of defence which have been
already discovered, and should devise and invent others, for when men
are well prepared no enemy even thinks of attacking them.

As the walls are to be divided by guardhouses and towers built
at suitable intervals, and the body of citizens must be distributed at
common tables, the idea will naturally occur that we should establish
some of the common tables in the guardhouses. The arrangement
might be as follows : the principal common tables of the magistrates
will occupy a suitable place, and there also will be the buildings appro-
priated to religious worship except in the case of those rites which the
law or the Pythian oracle has restricted to a special locality. The
site should be a spot seen far and wide, which gives due elevation to
virtue and towers over the neighbourhood. Near this spot should b6
established an agora, such as that which the Thessalians call the 'free-
men's agora ;' from this all trade should be excluded, and no mechanic,
husbandman, or any such person allowed to enter, unless he be sum-
moned by the magistrates. It would be a charming use of the placer
if the gymnastic exercises of the elder men were performed there. For
in this noble practice different ages should be separated, and some of
the magistrates should stay with the boys, while the grown-up men
remain with the magistrates [i.e. in the freeman's agora] ; for the
presence of the magistrates is the best mode of inspiring true modesty
and ingenuous fear. There should also be a traders' agora, distinct
and apart from the other, in a situation which is convenient for the
reception of goods both by sea and land.

But in speaking of the magistrates we must not forget another
section of the citizens, viz. the priests, for whom public tables should

ARISTOTLE 403

likewise be provided in their proper place near the temples. The
magistrates who deal with contracts, indictments, summonses, and
the like, and those who have the care of the agora and of the city re-
spectively, ought to be established near the agora and in some public
place of meeting; the neighbourhood of the traders' agora will be a
suitable spot ; the upper agora we devote to the life of leisure, the other
is intended for the necessities of trade.

The same order should prevail in the country, for there too the
magistrates, called by some 'Inspectors of Forests,' and by others
'Wardens of the Country/ must have guardhouses and common tables
while they are on duty ; temples should also be scattered throughout
the country, dedicated, some to gods, and some to heroes.

But it would be a waste of time for us to linger over details like
these. The difficulty is not in imagining but in carrying them out.
We may talk about them as much as we like, but the execution of
them will depend upon fortune. Wherefore let us say no more about
these matters for the present.

Returning to the constitution itself, let us seek to determine out
of what and what sort of elements the state which is to be happy and
Well-governed should be composed. There are two things in which
all well-being consists, one of them is the choice of a right end and
aim of action, and the other the discovery of the actions which are
means towards it ; for the means and the end may agree or disagree.
Sometimes the right end is set before men, but in practice they fail
to attain it; in other cases they are successful in all the means, but
they propose to themselves a bad end, and sometimes they fail in
both. Take, for example, the art of medicine ; physicians do not al-
ways understand the nature of health, and also the means which they
use may not effect the desired end. In all arts and sciences both the
end and the means should be equally within our control.

The happiness and well-being which all men manifestly desire,
some have the power of attaining, but to others, from some accident
or defect of nature, the attainment of them is not granted ; for a good
life requires a supply of external goods, in a less degree when men
are in a good state, in a greater degree when they are in a lower state.
Others again, who possess the condition of happiness, go utterly
wrong from the first in the pursuit of it. But since our object is to
discover the best form of government, that, namely, under which a
city will be best governed, and since the city is best governed which
has the greatest opportunity of obtaining happiness, it is evident that

404 ARISTOTLE

we must clearly ascertain the nature of happiness.

We have said in the Ethics, if the arguments there adduced are of
any value, that happiness is the realization and perfect exercise of vir-
tue, and this not conditional, but absolute. And I used the term 'condi-
tional' to express that which is good in itself. Take the case of just
actions ; just punishments and chastisements do indeed spring from a
good principle, but they are good only because we cannot do without
them — it would be better that neither individuals nor states should
need anything of the sort — but actions which aim at honour and ad-
vantage are absolutely the best. The conditional action is only the
choice of a lesser evil ; whereas these are the foundation and creation
of good. A good man may make the best even of poverty and disease,
and the other ills of life; but he can only attain happiness under the
opposite conditions. As we have already said in the Ethics, the good
man is he to whom, because he is virtuous, the absolute good is his
good. It is also plain that his use of other goods must be virtuous
and in the absolute sense good. This makes men fancy that external
goods are the cause of happiness, yet we might as well say that a bril-
liant performance on the lyre was to be attributed to the instrument
and not to the skill of the performer.

It follows then from what has been said that some things the leg-
islator must find ready to his hand in a state, others he must provide.
And therefore we can only say : May our state be constituted in such a
manner as to be blessed with the goods of which fortune disposes (for
we acknowledge her power) : whereas virtue and goodness in the state
are not a matter of chance but the result of knowledge and purpose.
A city can be virtuous only when che citizens who have a share in the
government are virtuous, and in our state all the citizens share in the
government; let us then enquire how a man becomes virtuous. For
even if we could suppose all the citizens to be virtuous, and not each
of them, yet the latter would be better, for in the virtue of each the
virtue of all is involved.

There are three things which make men good and virtuous : these
are nature, habit, reason. In the first place, every one must be born
a man and not some other animal ; in the second place, he must have
a certain character, both of body and soul. But some qualities there
is no use in having at birth, for they are altered by habit, and there
are some gifts of nature which may be turned by habit to good or bad.
Most animals lead a life of nature, although in lesser particulars some
are influenced by habit as well. Man has reason, in addition, and man

ARISTOTLE 405

only. Wherefore nature, habit, reason must be in harmony with one
another ; [for they do not always agree] ; men do many things against
habit and nature, if reason persuades them that they ought. We have
already determined what natures are likely to be most easily moulded
by the hands of the legislator. All else is the work of education ; we
learn some things by habit and some by instruction.

Since every political society is composed of rulers and subjects,
let us consider whether the relations of one to the other should inter-
change or be permanent. For the education of the citizens will nec-
essarily vary with the answer given to this question. Now, if some
men excelled others in the same degree in which gods and heroes are
supposed to excel mankind in general, having in the first place a great
advantage even in their bodies, and secondly in their minds, so that
the superiority of the governors over their subjects was patent and
undisputed, it would clearly be better that once for all the one class
should rule and the others serve. But since this is unattainable, and
kings have no marked superiority over their subjects, such as Scylax
affirms to be found among the Indians, it is obviously necessary on
many grounds that all the citizens alike should take their turn of gov-
erning and being governed. Equality consists in the same treatment
of similar persons, and no government can stand which is not founded
upon justice. For [if the government be unjust] every one in the
country unites with the governed in the desire to have a revolution,
and it is an impossibility that the members of the government can be
so numerous as to be stronger than all their enemies put together.
Yet that governors should excel their subjects is undeniable. How
all this is to be effected, and in what way they will respectively share
in the government, the legislator has to consider. The subject has
been already mentioned. Nature herself has given the principle of
choice when she made a difference between old and young (though
they are really the same in kind), of whom she fitted the one to govern
and the others to be governed. No one takes offence at being gov-
erned when he is young, nor does he think himself better than his gov-
ernors, especially if he will enjoy the same privilege when he reaches
the required age.

We conclude that from one point of view governors and governed
are identical, and from another different. And therefore their educa-
tion must be the same and also different. For he who would learn
to command well must, as men say, first of all learn to obey. As I
observed in the first part of this treatise, there is one rule which is for

406 ARISTOTLE

the sake of the rulers and another rule which is for the sake of the
ruled; the former is a despotic, the latter a free government. Some
commands differ not in the thing commanded, but in the intention
with which they are imposed. Wherefore, many apparently menial
offices are an honour to the free youth by whom they are performed ;
for actions do not differ as honourable or dishonourable in themselves
so much as in the end and intention of them. But since we say that
the virtue of the citizen and ruler is the same as that of the good man,
and that the same person must first be a subject and then a ruler, the
legislator has to see that they become good men, and by what means
this may be accomplished, and what is the end of the perfect life.

Now the soul of man is divided into two parts, one of which has
reason in itself, and the other, not having reason in itself, is able to
obey reason. And we call a man good because he has the virtues of
these two parts. In which of them the end is more likely to be found
is no matter of doubt to those who adopt our division ; for in the world
both of nature and of art the inferior always exists for the sake of the
better or superior, and the better or superior is that which has reason.
The reason too, in our ordinary way of speaking, is divided into two
parts, for there is a practical and a speculative reason, and there must
be a corresponding division of actions ; the actions of the naturally
better principle are to be preferred by those who have it in their power
to attain to both or to all, for that is always to every one the most
eligible which is the highest attainable by him. The whole of life is
further divided into two parts, business and leisure, war and peace,
and all actions into those which are necessary and useful, and those
which are honourable. And the preference given to one or the other
class of actions must necessarily be like the preference given to one
or the other part of the soul and its actions over the other ; there must
be war for the sake of peace, business for the sake of leisure, things
useful and necessary for the sake of things honourable. All these
points the statesman should keep in view when he frames his laws;
he should consider the parts of the soul and their functions, and above
all the better and the end; he should also remember the diversities
of human lives and actions. For men must engage in business and
go to war, but leisure and peace are better ; they must 'do what is nec-
essary and useful, but what is honourable is better. In such prin-
ciples children and persons of every age which requires education
should be trained. Whereas even the Hellenes of the present day,
who are reputed to be best governed, and the legislators who gave

ARISTOTLE 407

them their constitutions, do not appear to have framed their govern-
ments with a regard to the best end, or to have given them laws and
education with a view to all the virtues, but in a vulgar spirit have
fallen back on those which promised to be more useful and profitable.
Many modern writers have taken a similar view: they commend the
Lacedaemonian constitution, and praise the legislator for making con-
quest and war his sole aim, a doctrine which may be refuted by argu-
ment and has long ago been refuted by facts. For most men desire
empire in the hope of accumulating the goods of fortune ; and on this
ground Thibron and all those who have written about the Lacedae-
monian constitution have praised their legislator, because the Lace-
daemonians, by a training in hardships, gained great power. But
surely they are not a happy people now that their empire has passed
away, nor was their legislator right. How ridiculous is the result, if,
while they are continuing in the observance of his laws and no one
interferes with them, they have lost the better part of life. These
writers further err about the sort of government which the legislator
should approve, for the government of freemen is noble, and implies
more virtue than despotic government. Neither is a city to be
deemed happy or a legislator to be praised because he trains his citi-
zens to conquer and obtain dominion over their neighbours, for there
is great evil in this. On a similar principle any citizen who could,
would obviously try to obtain the power in his own state, — the crime
which the Lacedaemonians accuse king Pausanias of attempting, al-
though he had so great honour already. No such principle and no
law having this object is either statesmanlike or useful or right. For
the same things are best both for individuals and for states, and these
are the things which the legislator ought to implant in the minds of
his citizens. Neither should men study war with a view to the en-
slavement of those who do not deserve to be enslaved ; but first of all
they should provide against their own enslavement, and in the second
place obtain empire for the good of the governed, and not for the sake
of exercising a general despotism, and in the third place they should
seek to be masters only over those who deserve to be slaves. Facts,
as well as arguments, prove that the legislator should direct all his
military and other measures to the provision of leisure and the estab-
lishment of peace. For most of these military states are safe only
while they are at war, but fall when they have acquired their empire;
like unused iron they rust in time of peace. And for this the legislator
is to blame, he never having taught them how to lead the life of peace.

408 ARISTOTLE

Since the end of individuals and of states is the same, the end of
the best man and of the best state must also be the same ; it is there-
fore evident that there ought to exist in both of them the virtues of
leisure; for peace, as has been often repeated, is the end of war, and
leisure of toil. But leisure and cultivation may be promoted, not only
by those virtues which are practised in leisure, but also by some of
those which are useful to business. For many necessaries of life have
to be supplied before we can have leisure. Therefore a city must be
temperate and brave, and able to endure: for truly, as the proverb
says, 'There is no leisure for slaves/ and those who cannot face danger
like men are the slaves of any invader. Courage and endurance are
required for business and philosophy for leisure, temperance and jus-
tice for both, more especially in times of peace and leisure, for war
compels men to be just and temperate, whereas the enjoyment of good
fortune and the leisure which comes with peace tends to make them
insolent. Those then, who seem to be the best-off and to be in the
possession of every good, have special need of justice and temperance,
— for example, those (if such there be, as the poets say) who dwell in
the Islands of the Blest ; they above all will need philosophy and tem-
perance and justice, and all the more the more leisure they have, living
in the midst of abundance. There is no difficulty in seeing why the
state that would be happy and good ought to have these virtues. If
it be disgraceful in men not to be able to use the goods of life, it is
peculiarly disgraceful not to be able to use them in time of peace, —
to show excellent qualities in action and war, and when they have
peace and leisure to be no better than slaves. Wherefore .we should
not practise virtue after the manner of the Lacedaemonians. For
they, while agreeing with other men in their conception of the high-
est goods, differ from the rest of mankind in thinking that they are to
be obtained by the practice of a single virtue. And since these goods
and the enjoyment of them are clearly greater than the enjoyment
derived from the virtues of which they are the end, we must now con-
sider how and by what means they are to be attained.

We have already determined that nature and habit and reason are
required, and what should be the character of the citizens has also
been defined by us. But we have still to consider whether the training
cf early life is to be that of reason or habit, for these two must
accord, and when in accord they will then form the best of harmonies.
Reason may make mistakes and fail in attaining the highest ideal of
life, and there may be a like evil influence of habit. Thus much is

ARISTOTLE 409

clear in the first place, that, as in all other things, birth implies some
antecedent principle, and that the end of anything has a beginning
in some former end. Now, in men reason and mind are the end to-
wards which nature strives, so that the birth and moral discipline of
the citizens ought to be ordered with a view to them. In the second
place, as the soul and the body are two, we see also that there are two
parts of the soul, the rational and the irrational, and two correspond-
ing states — reason and appetite. And as the body is prior in order of
generation to the soul, so the irrational is prior to the rational. The
proof is that anger and will and desire are implanted in children from
their very birth, but reason and understanding are developed as they
grow older. Wherefore, the care of the body ought to precede that
of the soul, and the training of the appetitive part should follow : none
the less our care of it must be for the sake of the reason, and our care
of the body for the sake of the soul.

Since the legislator should begin by considering how the frames
of the children whom he is rearing may be as good as possible, his
first care will be ^bout marriage — at what age should his citizens
marry, and who are fit to marry? In legislating on this subject he
ought to consider the persons and their relative ages, that there may
be no disproportion in them, and that they may not differ in their
bodily powers, as will be the case if the man is still able to beget child-
ren while the woman is unable to bear them, or the woman able to
bear while the man is unable to beget, for from these causes arise
quarrels and differences between married persons. Secondly, he
must consider the time at which the children will succeed to their
parents ; there ought not to be too great an interval of age, for then
the parents will be too old to derive any pleasure from their affection,
or to be of any use to them. Nor ought they to be too nearly of an
age; to youthful marriages there are many objections — the children
will be wanting in respect to the parents, who will seem to be their con-
temporaries, and disputes will arise in the management of the house-
hold. Thirdly, and this is the point from which we digressed, the legis-
lator must mould to his will the frames of newly-born children. Almost
all these objects may be secured by attention to one point. Since the
time of generation is commonly limited within the age of seventy years
in the case of a man, and of fifty in the case of a woman, the
commencement of the union should conform to these periods. The
union of male and female when too young is bad for the procreation
of children ; in all other animals the offspring of the young are small

V 2-26

410 ARISTOTLE

and ill-developed, and generally of the female sex, and therefore also
in man, as is proved by the fact that in those cities in which men and
women are accustomed to marry young, the people are small and
weak; in childbirth also younger women suffer more, and more of
them die ; some persons say that this was the meaning of the response
once given to the Troezenians — ['Shear not the young field/] — the
oracle really meant that many died because they married too young;
it had nothing to do with the ingathering of the harvest. It also con-
duces to temperance not to marry too soon; for women who marry
early are apt to be wanton ; and in men too the bodily frame is stunted
if they marry while they are growing (for there is a time when the
growth of the body ceases). Women should marry when they are
about eighteen years of age, and men at seven and thirty ; then they
are in the prime of life, and the decline in the powers of both will co-
incide. Further, the children, if their birth takes place at the time
that may reasonably be expected, will succeed in their prime, when
the fathers are already in the decline of life, and have nearly reached
their term of three-score years and ten.

Thus much of the age proper for marriage : the season of the year
should also be considered; according to our present custom, people
generally limit marriage to the season of winter, and they are right.
The precepts of physicians and natural philosophers about generation
should also be studied by the parents themselves ; the physicians give
good advice about the right age of the body, and the natural philoso-
phers about the winds ; of which they prefer the north to the south.

What constitution in the parent is most advantageous to the off-
spring is a subject which we will hereafter consider when we speak
of the education of children, and we will only make a few general re-
marks at present. The temperament of an athlete is not suited to
the life of a citizen, or to health, or to the procreation of children, any
more than the valetudinarian or exhausted constitution, but one -which
is in a mean between them. A man's constitution should be inured
to labour, but not to labour which is excessive or of one sort only,
such as is practised by athletes ; he should be capable of all the actions
of a freeman. These remarks apply equally to both parents.

Women who are with child should be careful of themselves ; they
should take exercise and have a nourishing diet. The first of these
prescriptions the legislator will easily carry into effect by requiring
that they shall take a walk daily to some temple, where they can wor-
ship the gods who preside over birth. Their minds, however, unlike

ARISTOTLE 411

their bodies, they ought to keep unexercised, for the offspring derive
their natures from their mothers as plants do from the earth.

As to the exposure and rearing of children, let there be a law that
no deformed child shall live, but where there are too many (for in our
state population has a limit), when couples have children in excess,
and the state of feeling is averse to the exposure of offspring, let abor-
tion be procured before sense and life have begun ; what may or may
not be lawfully done in these cases depends on the question of life
and sensation.

And now, having determined at what ages men and women are to
begin their union, let us also determine how long they shall continue
to beget and bear offspring for the state ; men who are too old, like
men who are too young, produce children who are defective in body
and mind ; the children of very old men are weakly. The limit, then,
should be the age which is the prime of their intelligence, and this in
most persons, according to the notion of some poets who measure
life by periods of seven years, is about fifty ; at four or five years later,
they should cease from having families ; and from that time forward
only cohabit with one another for the sake of health, or for some sim-
ilar reason.

As to adultery, let it be held disgraceful for any man or woman
to be unfaithful when they are married, arid called husband and wife.
If during the time of bearing children anything of the sort occur, let
the guilty person be punished with a loss of privileges in proportion
to the offence.

After the children have been born, the manner of rearing them
may be supposed to have a great effect on their bodily strength. It
would appear from the example of animals, and of those nations who
desire to create the military habit, that the food which has most milk
in it is best suited to human beings ; but the less wine the better, if
they would escape diseases. Also all the motions to which children
can be subjected at their early age are very useful. But in order to
preserve their tender limbs from distortion, some nations have had
recourse to mechanical appliances which straighten their bodies. To
accustom children to the cold from their earliest years is also an ex-
cellent practice, which greatly conduces to health, and hardens them
for military service. Hence many barbarians have a custom of plung-
ing their children at birth into a cold stream ; others, like the Celts,
clothe them in a light wrapper only. For human nature should be
early habituated to endure all which by habit it can be made to endure ;

412 ARISTOTLE

but the process must be gradual. And children, from their natural
warmth, may be easily trained to bear cold. Such care should attend
them in the first stage of life.

The next period lasts to the age of five; during this no demand
should be made upon the child for study or labour, lest its growth be
impeded; and there should be sufficient motion to prevent the limbs
from being inactive. This can be secured, among other ways, by
amusement, but the amusement should not be vulgar or tiring or riot-
ous. The Directors of Education, as they are termed, should be care-
ful what tales or stories the children hear, for the sports of children
are designed to prepare the way for the business of later life, and
should be for the most part imitations of the occupations which they
will hereafter pursue in earnest. Those are wrong who [like Plato]
in the Laws attempt to check the loud crying and screaming of child-
ren, for these contribute towards their growth, and, in a manner, ex-
ercise their bodies. Straining the voice has an effect similar to that
produced by the retention of the breath in violent exertions. Besides
other duties, the Directors of Education should have an eye to their
bringing up, and should take care that they are left as little..as possible
with slaves. For until they are seven years old they must live at
home ; and therefore, even at this early age, all that is mean and low
should be banished from their sight and hearing. Indeed, there is
nothing which the legislator should be more careful to drive away than
indecency of speech ; for the light utterance of shameful words is akin
to shameful actions. The young especially should never be allowed
to repeat or hear anything of the sort. A freeman who is found
saying or doing what is forbidden, if he be too young as yet to have
the privilege of a place at the public tables, should be disgraced and
beaten, and an elder person degraded as his slavish conduct deserves.
And since we do not allow improper language, clearly we should also
banish pictures or tales which are indecent. Let the rulers take care
that there be no image or picture representing unseemly actions,
except in the temples of those gods at whose festivals the law
permits even ribaldry, and whom the law also permits to be wor-
shipped by persons of mature age on behalf of themselves, their child-
ren, and their wives. But the legislator should not allow youth to
be hearers of satirical Iambic verses or spectators of comedy until
they are of an age to sit at the public tables and to drink strong wine ;
by that time education will have armed them against the evil influ-
ences of such representations.

ARISTOTLE 413

We have made these remarks in a cursory manner, — they are
enough for the present occasion; but hereafter we will return to the
subject and after a fuller discussion determine whether such liberty
should or should not be granted, and in what way granted, if at all.
Theodorus, the tragic actor, was quite right in saying that he would
not allow any other actor, not even if he were quite second-rate, to
enter before himself, because the spectators grew fond of the voices
which they first heard. And the same principle of association applies
universally to things as well as persons, for we always like best what-
ever comes first. And therefore youth should be kept strangers to
all that is bad, and especially to things which suggest vice or hate.
When the five years have passed away, during the two following years
they must look on at the pursuits which they are hereafter to learn.
There are two periods of life into which education has to be divided,
from seven to the age of puberty, and onwards to the age of one and
twenty. [The poets] who divide ages by sevens are not always right :
we should rather adhere to the divisions actually made by nature ; for
the deficiencies of nature are what art and education seek to fill up.
Let us then first enquire if any regulations are to be laid down
about children, and secondly, whether the care of them should be the
concern of the -state or of private individuals, which latter is in our
own day the common custom, and in the third place, what these regu-
lations should be. — Politics, VII.

No one will .doubt that the legislator should direct his attention
above all to the education of youth, or that the neglect of education
does harm to states. The citizen should be moulded to suit the form
of government under which he lives. For each government has a
peculiar character which originally formed and which continues to
preserve it. The character of democracy creates democracy, and the
character of oligarchy creates oligarchy; and always the better the
character, the better the government.

Now for the exercise of any faculty or art a previous training and
habituation are required ; clearly therefore for the practice of virtue.
And since the whole city has one end, it is manifest that education
should be one and the same for all, and that it should be public, and
not private, — not as at present, when every one looks after his own
children separately, and gives them separate instruction of the sort
which he thinks best; the training in things which are of common
interest should be the same for all. Neither must we suppose that

414 ARISTOTLE

any one of the citizens belongs to himself, for they all belong to the
state, and are each of them a part of the state, and the care of each is
inseparable from the care of the whole. In this particular the Lace-
daemonians are to be praised, for they take the greatest pains about
their children, and make education the business of the state.

That education should be regulated by law and should be an
affair of state is not to be denied, but what should be the character
of this public education, and how young persons should be educated,
are questions which remain to be considered. For mankind are by
no means agreed about the things to be taught, whether we look to
virtue or the best life. Neither is it clear whether education is more
concerned with intellectual or with moral virtue. The existing prac-
tice is perplexing; no one knows on what principle we should
proceed — should the useful in life, or should virtue, or should the
higher knowledge, be the aim or our training; all three opinions
have been entertained. Again, about the means there is no agreement ;
for different persons, starting with different ideas about the nature of
virtue, naturally disagree about the practice of it. There can be no
doubt that children should be taught those useful things which are
really necessary, but not all things; for occupations are divided into
liberal and illiberal; and to young children should be imparted only
such kinds of knowledge as will be useful to them without vulgarizing
them. And any occupation, art, or science, which makes the body or
soul or mind of the freeman less fit for the practice or exercise of
virtue, is vulgar; wherefore we call those arts vulgar which tend to
deform the body, and likewise all paid employments, for they absorb
and degrade the mind. There are also some liberal arts quite proper
for a freeman to acquire, but only in a certain degree, and if he attend
to them too closely, in order to attain perfection in them, the same
evil effects will follow. The object also which a man sets before him
makes a great difference; if he does or learns anything for his own
sake or for the sake of his friends, or with a view to excellence, the
action will not appear illiberal ; but if done for the sake of others, the
very same action will be thought menial and servile. The received
subjects of instruction, as I have already remarked, are partly of a
liberal and partly of an illiberal character.

The customary branches of education are in number four; they
are — (i) reading and writing, (2) gymnastic exercises, (3) music, to
which is sometimes added (4) drawing. Of these, reading and writ-
ing and drawing are regarded as useful for the purposes of life in a

ARISTOTLE 415

variety of ways, and gymnastic exercises are thought to infuse cour-
age. Concerning music a doubt may be raised — in our own day most
men cultivate it for the sake of pleasure, but originally it was included
in education, because nature, herself, as has been often said, requires
that we should be able, not only to work well, but to use leisure well ;
for, as I must repeat once and again, the first principle of all action
is leisure. Both are required, but leisure is better than occupation;
and therefore the question must be asked in good earnest, what ought
we to do when at leisure ? Clearly we ought not to be amusing our-
selves, for then amusement would be the end of life. But if this is
inconceivable, and yet amid serious occupations amusement is needed
more than at other times (for he who is hard at work has need of re-
laxation, and amusement gives relaxation, whereas occupation is
always accompanied with exertion and effort), at suitable times
we should introduce amusements, and they should be our medicines,
for the emotion which they create in the soul is a relaxation, and from
the pleasure we obtain rest. Leisure of itself gives pleasure and hap-
piness and enjoyment of life, which are experienced, not by the busy
man, but by those who have leisure. For he who is occupied has in
view some end which he has not attained; but happiness is an
end which all men deem to be accompanied with pleasure and
not with pain. This pleasure, however, is regarded differently by
different persons, and varies according to the habit of individuals ;
the pleasure of the best man is the best, and springs from the noblest
sources. It is clear then that there are branches of learning and ed-
ucation which we must study with a view to the enjoyment of leisure,
and these are to be valued for their own sake ; whereas those kinds of
knowledge which are useful in business are to be deemed necessary,
and exist for the sake of other things. And therefore our fathers
admitted music into education, not on the ground either of its nec-
essity or utility, for it is not necessary, nor indeed useful in the same
manner as reading and writing, which are useful in money-making,
in the management of a household, in the acquisition of knowledge
and in political life, nor like drawing, useful for a more correct judg-
ment of the works of artists, nor again like gymnastic, which gives
health and strength ; for neither of these is to be gained from music.
There remains, then, the use of music for intellectual enjoyment in
leisure; which appears to have been the reason of its introduction,
this being one of the ways in which it is thought that a freeman should
pass his leisure ; as Homer says —

416 ARISTOTLE

'How good is it to invite men to the pleasant feast,'
and afterwards he speaks of others whom he describes as inviting

'The bard who would delight them all.'

And in another place Odysseus says there is no better way of passing
life than when

'Men's hearts are merry and the banqueters in the hall, sitting in
order, hear the voice of the minstrel.'

It is evident, then, that there is a sort of education in which par-
ents should train their sons, not as being useful or necessary, but
because it is liberal or noble. Whether this is of one kind only, or
of more than one, and if so, what they are, and how they are to be
imparted, must hereafter be determined. Thus much we are now in
a position to say that the ancients witness to us ; for their opinion may
be gathered from the fact that music is one of the received and trad-
itional branches of education. Further, it is clear that children should
be instructed in some useful things, — for example, in reading and
writing, — not only for their usefulness, but also because many other
sorts of knowledge are acquired through them. With a like view
they may be taught drawing, not to prevent their making mistakes
in their purchases, or in order that they may not be imposed upon
in the buying or selling of articles, but rather because it makes them
judges of the beauty of the human form. To be always seeking after
the useful does not become free and exalted souls. Now it is clear
that in education habit must go before reason, and the body before
the mind ; and therefore boys should be handed over to the trainer,
who creates in them the proper habit of body, and to the wrestling-
master, who teaches them their exercises.

Of those states which in our own day seem to take the greatest
care of children, some aim at producing in them an athletic habit, but
they only injure their forms and stunt their growth. Although the
Lacedaemonians have not fallen into this mistake, yet they brutalize
their children by laborious exercises which they think will make them
courageous. But in truth, as we have often repeated, education
should not be exclusively directed to this or to any other single end.
And even if we suppose the Lacedaemonians to be right in their end,
they do not attain it. • For among barbarians and among animals
courage is found associated, not with the greatest ferocity, but with

ARISTOTLE 417

a gentle and lion-like temper. There are many races who are ready
enough to kill and eat men, such as the Achaeans and Heniochi, who
both live about the Black Sea; and there are other inland tribes, as
bad or worse, who. all live by plunder, but have no courage. It is
notorious that the Lacedaemonians, while they were themselves as-
siduous in their laborious drill, were superior to others, but now they
are beaten both in war and gymnastic exercises. For their ancient
superiority did not depend on their mode of training their youth, but
only on the circumstance that they trained them at a time when others
did not. Hence we may infer that what is noble, not what is brutal,
should have the first place ; no wolf or other wild animal will face a
really noble danger ; such dangers are for the brave man. And par-
ents who devote their children to gymnastics while they neglect their
necessary education, in reality vulgarize them; for they make them
useful to the state in one quality only, and even in this the argument
proves them to be inferior to others. We should judge the Lace-
daemonians not from what they have been, but from what they are;
for now they have rivals who compete with their education ; formerly
they had none.

It is an admitted principle, that gymnastic exercises should be
employed in education, and that for children they should be of a lighter
kind, avoiding severe regimen or painful toil, lest the growth of the
body be impaired. The evil of excessive training in early years is
strikingly proved by the example of the Olympic victors ; for not more
than two or three of them have gained a prize both as boys and as
men; their early training and severe gymnastic exercises exhausted
their constitutions. When boyhood is over, three years should be
spent in other studies ; the period of life which follows may then be
devoted to hard exercise and strict regimen. Men ought not to
labour at the same time with their minds and with their bodies ; for
the two kinds of labour are opposed to one another, the labour of the
body impedes the mind, and the labour of the mind the body. — Politics,
VIII.

TRANSLATION OF B. JOWETT,

418

ZENO THE STOIC

ZENO THE STOIC was born about 350 B. C, the son of a Phoenician
merchant in Citium, Cyprus. A shipwreck is supposed to have left
Zeno at Athens, where he became a pupil of the cynic Crates, and
finally founded his own school. His writings are lost. He died about
258 B. C.

The stoics slightly modified the cynic assumption that virtue is
freedom from wants, by making it the superiority to pleasure, trouble,
desire, and fear, arrived at by calm submission to natural law, and out
of this conformity to natural law they developed the idea of duty.
Their doctrines spread to Rome and because in harmony with the
sterner side of Roman character, exerted great influence from the days
of Cato to those of Marcus Aurelius.

CHARACTERISTICS

I. ZENO was the son of Innaseas, or Demeas, and a native of
Citium, in Cyprus, which is a Grecian city, partly occupied by a Phoen-
ician colony.

II. He had his head naturally bent on one side, as Timotheus, the
Athenian, tells us, in his work on Lives. And Apollonius, the Tyrian,
says that he was thin, very tall, of a dark complexion ; in reference to
which some one once called him an Egyptian Clematis, as Chrysippus
relates in the first volume of his Proverbs: he had fat, flabby, weak
legs, on which account Persaeus, in his Convivial Reminiscences, says
that he used to refuse many invitations to supper; and he was very

ZENO 419

fond, as it is said, of figs both fresh and dried in the sun.

III. He was a pupil, as has been already stated, of Crates. After
that, they say that he became a pupil of Stilpon and of Xenocrates, for
ten years, as Timocrates relates in his Life of Dion. He is also said
to have been a pupil of Polemo. But Hecaton, and Apollonius, of Tyre,
in the first book of his essay on Zeno, says that when he consulted the
oracle, as to what he ought to do to live in the most excellent manner,
the god answered him that he ought to become of the same complexion
as the dead, on which he inferred that he ought to apply himself to the
reading of the books of the ancients. Accordingly, he attached him-
self to Crates in the following manner. Having purchased a quantity
of purple from Phoenicia, he was shipwrecked close to the Piraeus ; and
when he had made his way from the coast as far as Athens, he sat down
by a bookseller's stall, being now about thirty years of age. And as
he took up the second book of Xenophon's Memorabilia and began to
read it, he was delighted with it, and asked where such men as were
described in that book lived : and as Crates happened very seasonably
to pass at the moment, the bookseller pointed him out, and said, "Fol-
low that man." From that time forth he became a pupil of Crates ; but
though he was in other respects very energetic in his application to
philosophy, still he was too modest for the shamelessness of the Cynics.
On which account, Crates, wishing to cure him of false shame, gave
him a jar of lentil porridge to carry through the Ceramicus ; and when
he saw that he was ashamed, and that he endeavored to hide it, he
struck the jar with his staff ,and broke it ; and, as Zeno fled away, and
the lentil porridge ran all down his legs, Crates called after him, "Why
do you run away, my little Phoenician, you have done no harm?" For
some time then he continued a pupil of Crates, and when he wrote his
treatise entitled the Republic, some said, jokingly, that he had written
it upon the tail of the dog.

IV. And besides his Republic, he was the author also of the fol-
lowing works : — a treatise on a Life according to Nature ; one on Appe-
tite, or the Nature of Man ; one on Passions ; one on the Becoming ; one
on Law ; one on the usual Education of the Greeks ; one on Sight ; one
on the Whole ; one on Signs ; one on the Doctrines of the Pythagor-
eans ; one on Things in General ; one on Styles ; five essays on Problems
relating to Homer ; one on the Bearing of the Poets. There is also an
essay on Art by him ,and two books of Solutions and Jests, and Remin-
iscences, and one called the Ethics of Crates. These are the books of
which he was the author.

120

V. But at last he left Crates, and became the pupil of the philoso-
phers whom I have mentioned before, and continued with them for
twenty years. So that it is related that he said, "I now find that I made
a prosperous voyage when I was wrecked." But some affirm that he
made this speech in reference to Crates. Others say, that while he
was staying at Athens he heard of a shipwreck, and said, "Fortune does
well in having driven us on philosophy." But as some relate the afTrar,
he was not wrecked at all, but sold all his cargo at Athens, and then
turned to philosophy.

VI. And he used to walk up and down in the beautiful colonnade
which is called the Priscanactium, and which is also called poikila, from
the paintings of Polygnotus, and there he delivered his discourses,
wishing to make that spot tranquil ; for in the time of the thirty, nearly
fourteen hundred of the citizens had been murdered there by them.

VII. Accordingly, for the future, men came thither to hear him,
and from this his pupils were called Stoics, and so were his successors
also, who had been at first called Zenonians, as Epicurus tells us i» his
Epistles. And before this time, the poets who frequented this colun-
nade (stoa) had been called Stoics, as we are informed by Eratos-
thenes, in the eighth book of his treatise on the old comedy ; but now
Zeno's pupils made the name more notorious. Now the Athenians had
a great respect for Zeno, so that they gave him the keys of their w^ils,
and they also honoured him with a golden crown, and a brazen statue ;
and this was also done by his own countrymen, who thought the
statue of such a man an honour to their city. And the Cittiaeans, in
the district of Sidon, also claimed him as their countryman .

XVII. He was a man of a very investigating spirit, and one who
inquired very minutely into everything ; in reference to which, Timon,
in his Silli, speaks thus : —

I saw an aged woman of Phoenicia,
Hungry and covetous, in a proud obscurity,
Longing for everything. She had a basket
So full of holes that it retained nothing.
Likewise her mind was less than a simdapsus.

He used to study very carefully with Philo, the dialectician, and to
argue with him at their mutual leisure ; on which account he excited the
wonder of the younger Zeno, no less than Diodorus his master.

XVIII. There were also a lot of dirty beggers always about
him as Timon tells us, where he says : —

ZENO 421

Till he collected a vast cloud of beggars,
Who were of all men in the world the poorest,
And the most worthless citizens of Athens.

And he himself was a man of a morose and bitter countenance with a
constantly frowning expression. He was very economical, and des-
cended even to the meanness of the barbarians, under the pretence of
economy.

XIX. If he reproved any one, he did it with brevity and without
exaggeration, and as it were, at a distance. I allude, for instance, to
the way in which he spoke of a man who took exceeding pains in setting
himself off, for as he was crossing a gutter with great hesitation, he
said, "He is right to look down upon the mud, for he cannot see himself
in it." And when some Cynic one day said that he had no oil in his
cruise, and asked him for some, he refused to give him any, but bade
him go away and consider which of the two was the more impudent.
He was very much in love with Chremonides ; and once, when he and
Cleanthes were both sitting by him, he got up ; and as Cleanthes wond-
ered at this, he said, "I hear from skilful physicians that the best thing
for some tumours is rest." Once, when two people were sitting above
him at table at a banquet, and the one next him kept kicking the other
with his foot, he himself kicked him with his knee ; and when he turned
round upon him for doing so, he said, "Why then do you think that
your other neighbour is to be treated in this way by you ?"

On one occasion he said to a man who was very fond of young
boys, that "Schoolmasters who were always associating with boys had
no more intellect than the boys themselves." He used also to say that
the discourses of those men who were careful to avoid solecisms, and to
adhere to the strictest rules of composition, were like Alexandrine
money, they were pleasing to the eye and well-formed like the coni, but
were nothing the better for that ; but those who were not so particular
he likened to the Attic tessedrachmas, which were struck at random
and without any great nicety, and so he said that their discourses often
outweighed the more polished styles of the others. And when Ariston,
his disciple, had been holding forth a good deal of readiness and con-
fidence, he said to him, "It would be impossible for you to speak thus,
if your father had not been drunk when he begat you ;" and for the
same reason he nicknamed him the chatterer, as he himself was very
concise in his speeches. Once, when he was in company with an epi-
cure who usually left nothing for his messmates, and when a large fish

422 ZENO

was set before him, he took it all as if he could eat the whole of it ; and
when the other looked at him with astonishment, he said, "What then
do you think that your companions feel every day, if you cannot bear
with my gluttony for one day?"

On one occasion, when a youth was asking him questions with a
pertinacity unsuited to his age, he led him to a looking-glass and bade
him look at himself, and then asked himself whether such questions
appeared suitable to the face he saw there. And when a man said be-
fore him once, that in most points he did not agree with the doctrines of
Antisthenes, he quoted to him an apothegm of Sophocles, and asked
him whether he thought there was much sense in that, and when he
said that he did not know, "Are you not then ashamed," said he, "to
pick out and recollect anything bad which may have been said by Antis-
thenes, but not to regard or remember whatever is said that is good ?"
A man once said, that the sayings of the philosophers appeared to him
very trivial ; "You say true," replied Zeno, "and their syllables too ought
to be short, if that is possible." When some one spoke to him of Polemo,
and said that he proposed one question for discussion and then argued
another, he became angry, and said, "At what value did he estimate
the subject that had been proposed?" And he said that a man who
was to discuss a question ought to have a loud voice and great energy,
like the actors, but not to open his mouth too wide, which those who
speak a great deal but only talk nonsense usually do. And he used to
say that there was no need for those who argued well to leave their
hearers room to look about them, as good workmen do who want to
have their work seen ; but that, on the contrary, those who are listening
to them ought to be so attentive to all that is said to have no leisure to
take notes.

Once when a young man was talking a great deal, he said, "Your
ears have run into your tongue." On one occasion a very handsome
man was saying that a wise man did not appear to him likely to fall in
love; "Then," said he, "I cannot imagine anything that will be more
miserable than you good-fellows." He also used often to say that most
philosophers were wise in great things, but ignorant of petty subjects
and chance details ; and he used to cite the saying of Caphesius, who,
when one of his pupils was labouring hard to be able to blow very pow-
erfully, gave him a slap, and said, that excellence did not depend upon
greatness, but greatness on excellence. Once, when a young man was
arguing very confidently, he said, "I should not like to say, O youth,
all that occurs to me." And once, when a handsome and weathy Rho-

ZENO 423

dian, but one who had no other qualification, was pressing him to take
him as a pupil, he, as he was not inclined to receive him, first of all
made him sit on the dusty seats that he might dirt his cloak, then he
put him down in the place of the poor that he might rub against their
rags, and at last the .young man went away. One of his sayings used
to be, that vanity was the most unbecoming of all things, and especially
so in the young. Another was, that one ought not to try and recollect
the exact words and expressions of a discourse, but to fix all one's atten-
tion on the arrangement of the arguments, instead of treating it as if
it were a piece of boiled meat, or some delicate eatable. He used also
to say that young men ought to maintain the most scrupulous reserve
in their walking, their gait, and their dress ; and he was constantly quot-
ing the lines of Euripides on Capaneus, that —

His wealth was ample.
But yet no pride did mingle with his state,,
Nor had he haughty thought, or arrogance,
More than the poorest man.

And one of his sayings used to be, that nothing was more un-
friendly to the comprehension of the accurate sciences than poetry ; and
that there was nothing that we stood in so much need of as time.
When he was asked what a friend was, he replied, "Another I." They
say that he was once scourging a slave whom he had detected in theft ;
and when he said to him, "It was fated that I should steal ;" he rejoiced,
"Yes, and that you should be beaten." He used to call beauty the
flower of the voice; but some report this as if he had said that the
voice is the flower of beauty. On one occasion, when he saw a slave
belonging to one of his friends severely bruised, he said to his friend, "I
see the footsteps of your anger." He once accosted a man who was
all over unguents and perfumes, "Who is this who smells like a wo-
man?" When Dionysius Metathemenus asked him why he was the
only person whom he did not correct, he replied, "Because I have no
confidence in you." A young man was talking a great deal of nonsense,
and he said to him, "This is the reason why we have two ears and only
one mouth, that we may hear more and speak less.

Once, when he was at an entertainment and remained wholly
silent, he was asked what the reason was ; and so he bade the person
who found fault with him tell the king that there was a man in the
room who knew how to hold his tongue; now the people who asked
him this were ambassadors who had come from Ptolemy, and who

424 ZENO

wished to know what report they were to make of him to the king. He
was once asked how he felt when people abused him, and he said, "As
an ambassador feels when he is sent away without an answer." Apol-
lonius of Tyre tells us, that when Crates dragged him by the cloak away
from Stilpo, he said, "O Crates, the proper way to take hold of philoso-
phers is by the ears ; so now do you convince me and drag me by them ;
but if you use force towards me, my body may be with you, but my
mind with Stilpo."

XX. He used to devote a good deal of time to Diodorus, as we learn
from Hippobotus ; and he studied dialectics under him. And when he
had made a good deal of progress he attached himself to Polemo because
of his freedom from arrogance, so that it is reported that he said to
him, "I am not ignorant, O Zeno, that you slip into the garden-door and
steal my doctrines, and then clothe them in a Phoenician dress." When a
dialectician once showed him seven species of dialectic argument in the
mowing argument, he asked him how much he charged for them, and
when he said, "A hundred drachmas," he gave him two hundred, so
exceedingly devoted was he to learning.

XXI. They say, too, that he was the first who ever employed the
word duty (kathakon), and who wrote a treatise on the subject. And
that he altered the lines of Hesiod thus : —

He is the best of all men who submits

To follow good advice ; he too is good,

Who of himself perceives whate'er is fit.

For he said that that man who had the capacity to give a proper hear-
ing to what was said, and to avail himself of it, was superior to him who
comprehended everything by his own intellect ; for that the one had only
comprehension, but the one who took good advice had action also.

XXII. When he was asked why he, who was generally austere,
relaxed at a dinner party, he said, "Lupins too are bitter, but when they
are soaked they become sweet." And Hecaton, in the second book of
his Apothegms, says, that in entertainments of that kind, he used to
indulge himself freely. And he used to say that it was better to trip with
the feet, than with the tongue. And that goodness was attained by little
and little, but was not itself a small thing. Some authors, however,
attribute this saying to Socrates.

XXIII. He was a person of great powers of abstinence and endur-
ance ; and of very simple habits, living on food which required no fire
to dress it, and wearing a thin cloak, so that it was said of him : —

ZBNO 425

The cold of winter, and the ceaseless rain,
Come powerless against him ; weak is the dart
Of the fierce summer sun, or fell disease,
To bend that iron frame. He stands apart,
In nought resembling the vast common crowd ;
But, patient and unwearied, night and day,
Clings to his studies and philosophy.

XXIV. And the comic poets, without intending it, praise him
in their very attempts to turn him into ridicule. Philemon speaks thus
of him in his play entitled the Philosophers : —

This man adopts a new philosophy,
He teaches to be hungry ; nevertheless,
He gets disciples. Bread his only food,
His best desert dried figs ; water his drink.

But some attribute these lines to Posidippus. And they have be-
come almost a proverb. Accordingly it used to be said to him, "More
temperate than Zeno the philosopher." Posidippus also writes thus in
his Men Transported: —

So that for ten whole days he did appear
More temperate than Zeno's self.

XXV. For in reality he did surpass all men in this description of
virtue, and in dignity of demeanor, and, by Jove , in happiness. For he
lived ninety-eight years, and then died, without any disease, and con-
tinuing in good health to the last. But Persaeus, in his Ethical School,
states that he died at the age of seventy-two, and that he came to Athens
when he was twenty-two years old. But Apollonius says that he
presided over his school for forty-eight years.

XXVI. And he died in the following manner. When he was
going out of his school, he tripped, and broke one of his toes; and
striking the ground with his hand, he repeated the line out of the
Niobe : —

I come : why call me so !

And immediately he strangled himself, and so he died. — Diogenes
Laertius.

TRANSLATION OF C. D. YONGE.

V 2-27

426

EPICURUS

EPICURUS was born in Samos about 341 B. C. He visited Athens
at eighteen, and after a number of years spent in travel and in teaching
at Mitylene, returned to Athens to found his school about 307 B. C.
He died in 270 B. C.

His recognition of a higher form of pleasure as the chief good is
best given in his own terms as in the letter below. He seems to have
been himself virtuous and delightfully amiable. He incorporated some-
thing of the atomic theory of Leukippos and Demokritos into his sys-
tem and its explanation by his disciple Lucretius did much to keep it
alive until developed by modern science.

LETTER ON HAPPINESS

"Let no one delay to study philosophy while he is young, and
when he is old let him not become weary of the study ; for no man can
ever find the time unsuitable or too late to study the health of his
soul. And he who asserts either that it is not yet time to philosophize,
or that the hour is passed, is like a man who should say that the time
is not yet come to be happy, or that it is too late. So that both young
and old should study philosophy, the one in order that, when he is old,
he may be young in good things through the pleasing recollection of
the past, and the other in order that he may be at the same time both
young and old, in consequence of his absence of fear for the future.

"It is right then for a man to consider the things which produce
happiness, since, if happiness is present, we have everything, and when

HERMES

By Praxiteles.. In Olympia.

PRAXITELES is supposed to have been born at Athens about 392 B. C.
Little is known of his life. He worked for the most part in marble.
The Hermes is probably the original statue by his own hand. One of
his greatest works was the Aphrodite at Cnidus. He was the greatest sculptor
of the second great century of Greek afjBi

EPICURUS was born in Samos about 341 B. C He visited Athena
*t eighteen, and after a number of years spent in travel and in teaching
•t Mitylene, returned to At#3$3iHound his school about 307 B. C.

ted in 270 B. C^^^Q wl ^^y^ml yjS

Hi« recognition of a higher form of pleasure as the chief good is
best tivrrs .» >^? >**s. t- mv» a* in fhe tetter below. He seems to have

.3 .S-sefc jB««fB enarijA IK mod «a*d avail uJ;b9ebctqjjalifetB*IJfI»K'flQn °"

•-

w:.,ru -a-msi Jaw^TftrT'T^'fpj s" •-

10 ,,,, /d ottJ^ Jfifii

.'fjhrn^ • * jA'^m aev/Vitiow"-

alive until develupe-.t t\V modeiiHBS^^-^.lo yiuJnao JE^S bnooaa at

LETTER ON HAPPINESS

"Let no one delay to study philosophy while he is young, and
when he is old lot him not become weary of the study ; for no man can
ever find the tune unsuitable or too late to study the health of his
soul. And he who asserts either that it is not yet time to philosophize,
«w rfcAt the t»ow if. passed, is like a man who should say that the time
»* OCK yet come to b« happy, or that it is too late. So t*
.; j .0 ^iorti, .-:««!> pM.'^phy, the one in order that, v -. old,

l\c may b« young » $u*i Uutujs through the pleasing recollection of
the past, and th« «.I*»<T \n ,+<*?.t rhat \\e mav be at the same v.r /? both
young and old, in ronseqoctK- -••'• hi4 J-.smce of fear for the fature.

"It is right then for a man to consider the things ,vhu-h produce
happiness, since, if happiness is present, we have everything, and when

EPICURUS 427

it is absent, we do everything with a view to possess it. Now, what I
have constantly recommended to you, these things I would have you
do and practise, considering them to be the elements of living well.
First of all, believe that God is a being incorruptible and happy ; as the
common opinion of the world about God dictates ; and attach to your
idea of him nothing which is inconsistent with incorruptibility or with
happiness ; and think that he is invested with everything which is able
to preserve to him this happiness, in conjunction with incorruptibility.
For there are gods; for our knowledge of them is indistinct. But
they are not of the character which people in general attribute to them ;
for they do not pay a respect to them which accords with the ideas that
they entertain of them. And that man is not impious who discards the
god believed in by many, but he who applies to the gods the opinions
entertained of them by the many. For the assertions of the many
about the gods are not anticipations, but false opinions. And in
consequence of these, the greatest evils which befall wicked men, and
the benefits which are conferred on the good, are all attributed to the
gods; for they connect all their ideas of them with a comparison of
human virtues, and everything which is different from human qualities,
they regard as incompatible with the divine nature.

"Accustom yourself also to think death a matter with which we
are not at all concerned, since all good and evil is in sensation, and
since death is only the privation of sensation. On which account, the
correct knowledge of the fact that death is no concern of ours, makes
the mortality of life pleasant to us, insomuch as it sets forth no illimit-
able time, but relieves us of the longing for immortality. For there
is nothing terrible in living to a man who rightly comprehends that
there is nothing terrible in ceasing to live ; so that he was a silly man
who said that he feared death, not because it would grieve him when
it was present, but because it did grieve him while it was future. For
it is very absurd that that which does not distress a man when it is
present, should afflict him when only expected. Therefore, the most
formidable of all evils, death, is nothing to us, since, when we exist,
death is not present to us ; and when death is present, then we have no
existence. It is no concern then either of the living or of the dead;
since to the one it has no existence, and the other class has no existence
itself. But people in general, at times flee from death as the greatest
of evils, and at times wish for it as a rest from the evils in life. Nor
is the not living a thing feared, since living is not connected with it;
nor does the wise man think not living an evil ; but, just as he chooses

428 BPICURUS

food, not preferring that which is most abundant, but that which is
nicest ; so too, he enjoys time, not measuring it as to whether it is of the
greatest length, but as to whether it is most agreeable. And he who
enjoins a young man to live well, and an old man to die well, is a sim-
pleton, not only because of the constantly delightful nature of life, but
also because the care to live well is identical with the care to die well.
And he was still wrong who said: —

" Tis well to taste of life, and then when born
To pass with quickness to the shades below.

"For if this really was his opinion why did he not quit life? for
it was easily in his power to do so, if it really was his belief. But if he
was joking, then he was talking foolishly in a case where it ought not
to be allowed ; and, we must recollect, that the future is not our own,
nor, on the other hand, is it wholly not our own, I mean so that we
can never altogether await it with a feeling of certainty that it will
be, nor altogether despair of it as what will never be. And we must
consider that some of the passions are natural, and some empty; and
of the natural ones some are necessary, and some merely natural. And
of the necessary ones some are necessary to happiness, and others, with
regard to the exemption of the body, from trouble; and others with
respect to living itself ; for a correct theory, with regard to these things,
can refer all choice and avoidance to the health of the body and the
freedom from disquietude of the soul. Since this is the end of living
happily ; for it is for the sake of this that we do everything, wishing to
avoid grief and fear ; and when once this is the case, with respect to
us, then the storm of the soul is, as I may say, put an end to ; since the
animal is unable to go as if to something deficient, and to seek something
different from that by which the good of the soul and body will be
perfected.

"For then we have need of pleasure when we grieve, because
pleasure is not present ; but when we do not grieve, then we have no
need of pleasure ; and on this account, we affirm, that pleasure is the
beginning and end of living happily; for we have recognized this as
the first good, being connate with us ; and with reference to it, it is that
we begin every choice and avoidance; and to this we come as if we
judged of all good by passion as the standard ; and, since this is the first
good and connate with us, on this account we do not choose every
pleasure ensuing from them; and we think many pains better than
pleasures, when a greater pleasure follows them, if we endure the pain.

EPICURUS 429

" Every pleasure is therefore a good on account of its own nature,
but it does not follow that every pleasure is worthy, of being chosen ;
just as every pain is an evil, and yet every pain must not be avoided.
But it is right to estimate all these things by the measurement and
view of what is suitable and unsuitable ; for at times we may feel the
good as an evil, and at times, on the contrary, we may feel the evil as
good. And, we think, contentment a great good, not in order that we
may never have but a little, but in order that, if we have not much, we
may make use of a little, being genuinely persuaded that those men en-
joy luxury most completely who are the best able to do without it ; and
that every thing which is natural is easily provided, and what is useless
is not easily procured. And simple flavours give as much pleasure as
costly fare, when everything that can give pain, and everything feeling
of want, is removed ; and corn and water give the most extreme pleasure
when anyone in need eats them. To accustom one's self, therefore, to
simple and inexpensive habits is a great ingredient in the perfecting
of health, and makes a man free from hesitation with respect to the nec-
essary uses of life. 'And when we, on certain occasions, fall in with
more sumptuous fare, it makes us in a better disposition towards it,
and renders us fearless with respect to fortune. When, therefore, we
say that pleasure is a chief good, we are not speaking of the pleasures of
the debauched man, or those which lie in sensual enjoyment, as some
think who are ignorant, and who do not entertain our opinions, or else
interpret them perversely ; but we mean the freedom of the body from
pain, and of the soul from confusion. For it is not continued drinkings
and revels, or the enjoyment of female society, or feasts of fish and
other such things, as a costly table supplies, that make life pleasant, but
sober contemplation, which examines into the reasons for all choice and
avoidance, and which puts to flight the vain opinions from which the
greater part of the confusion arises which troubles the soul.

" Now, the beginning and the greatest good of all these things is
prudence, on which account prudence is something more valuable than
even philosophy, inasmuch as all the other virtues spring from it, teach-
ing us that it is not possible to live pleasantly unless one also lives
prudently, and honorably, and justly; and that one cannot live pru-
dently, and honestly, and justly without living pleasantly; for the
virtues are connate with living agreeably, and living agreeably is
inseparable from the virtues. Since, who can you think better than that
man who has holy opinions respecting the gods, and who is utterly
fearless with respect to death, and who has properly contemplated the

430 EPICURUS

end of nature, and who comprehends that the chief good is easily
perfected and easily provided; and the greatest evil lasts but a short
period, and causes but brief pain. And who has no belief in necessity,
which is set up by some as the mistress of all things, but he refers
some things to fortune, some to ourselves, because necessity is an
irresponsible power, and because he sees that fortune is unstable, while
our own will is free ; and this freedom constitutes, in our case, a respon-
sibility which makes us encounter blame and praise. Since it would
be better to follow the fables about the gods than to be a slave to the
fate of the natural philosopher ; for the fables which are told give us a
sketch, as if we could avert the wrath of God by paying him honour ;
but the other presents us with necessity who is inexorable.

" And he, not thinking fortune a goddess, as the generality esteem
her (for nothing is done at random by a god), nor a cause which no
man can rely on, for he thinks that good or evil is not given by her
to men so as to make them live happily, but that the principles of great
goods or great evils are supplied by her ; thinking it better to be unfor-
tunate in accordance with reason, than to be fortunate in accordance
with reason, than to be fortunate irrationally; for that those actions
which are judged to be the best, are rightly done in consequence of
reason.

" Do you then study these precepts, and those which are akin to
them, By all means day and night, pondering on them by yourself, and
discussing them with any one like yourself, and then you will never be
disturbed by either sleeping or waking fancies, but you will live like a
god among men ; for a man living amid immortal gods, is in no respect
like a mortal being." — Diogenes Laertius.

TRANSLATION OF C. D. 1TONGE.

THATCHER, OLIVER J.

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